Akfr,  LOS  1HGELB5 


SMILING  PASS 

BEING  A  FURTHER  ACCOUNT  OF 
THE  CAREER  OF 

'SMILES,"  A  ROSE  OF  THE  CUMBERLANDS 


NOVELS  OF 

ELIOT  H.  ROBINSON 
* 

THE    "SMII/ES"    STORIES 

SMILES.  A  ROSE  OF  THE  CUMBERLANDS  $1.90 

A  book  which  has  established  it*  author  in  the  front 
rank  of  American  novelists. 

SMILING  PASS $1.90 

A  sequel  to  "Smiles,  A  Rose  of  the  Cumberlands." 

THE  MAN  FROM  SMILING  PASS    .       .       $2.00 
Or,  The  Honorable  Abe  Blount 

A  sequel  to  "Smiles,  A   Rose  of  the  Cumberlands" 
and  '•Smiling  Pass." 

OTHER  NOVELS 

MARK  GRAY'S  HERITAGE       .       .       .       $1.90 
A  Romance 

THE  MAID  OF  MIRABELLE       .       .       .       $1.90 
A  Romance  of  Lorraine 

MAN  PROPOSES $1.90 

Or,  The  Romance  of  John  Alden  Shaw 

L.  C.  PAGE  &  COMPANY  (INC.) 

53  Beacon  Street,    Boston 


SMILING     PASS 

Being  a  Further  Account  of  the  Career  of 
"  'Smiles:'  A  Rose  of  the  Cumberlands" 


By  ELIOT  H.  ROBINSON 

AUTHOR  OF 
"  'Smiles' :  A  Rose  of  the  Cumberlands,"  etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 

Published    by    arrangement    with    The    Page    Company. 
Printed  in   U.   8.    A. 


Copyright,  1921,  by 
THE  PAGE  COMPANY 

BnUred  at  Stationers'  Hall,  London 
All  rights  reserved 

Made  in  U.  S.  A. 


FOREWORD 

No  pen  picture  which  has  yet  been  drawn  in 
literature  portrays  with  any  completeness  the  actual 
conditions  of  life  among  the  isolated  dwellers  in  our 
own  Southern  Highlands.  It  is  usual  with  the  novel- 
ist, even  if  he  writes  from  knowledge  rather  than 
imagination,  to  select — as  is  his  right — only  the 
brighter  tones  to  color  his  romance;  while  the  socio- 
logical writer  sees  only  the  drab  and  somber  shades 
of  disagreeable  facts  and  paints  his  picture  ac- 
cordingly. 

Both  exist  in  full  measure,  mixed  together,  and  it 
has  been  the  author's  purpose  in  this  story  to  describe 
life  as  it  really  is,  to-day,  among  that  strange  moun- 
tain people  which  has  its  habitation  geographically 
so  near  to  our  twentieth  century  civilization,  yet  is 
actually  so  remote  therefrom,  almost  completely 
isolated  within  its  containing  hills.  The  subject  is 
so  varied,  so  complex,  however,  that  he  makes  no 
pretense  of  having  done  more  than  depict  certain 
phases  of  it  in  sketchy  outline,  but  with  accuracy. 

If  he  has  at  times  seemed  to  draw  a  picture  of  an 
existence  almost  incredibly  harsh  and  crude  for  a 
part  of  our  own  country  settled  by  our  forefathers 
more  than  a  century  ago,  it  is  because  that  crudity 
and  harshness  exist — a  hundred  years  have  passed 

2132582 


over  the  greater  part  of  that  mountain  region,  so  dif- 
ficult of  access,  and  left  almost  no  perceptible  trace 
of  their  passage. 

"Smiling  Pass"  is  fiction,  purely,  yet  it  is  fiction 
interwoven  with  facts,  whose  authenticity  is  vouched 
for.  And  the  facts  which  the  author  has  set  down  are 
not  recounted  in  any  spirit  of  harsh  criticism,  but  with 
all  sympathetic  friendliness,  and  in  the  hope  that 
those  who  may  read  this  volume  may  come  to  a  fuller 
understanding — and  be  charitable.  For  he  has  lived 
among  these  "our  contemporaneous  ancestors"  and 
loves  them. 

In  the  story  to  which  this  is  a  sequel,  the  mountain 
child,  Rose — whom  men  called  "Smiles" — coura- 
geously fought  her  way  out  of  the  shadows  which  in- 
vest life  in  those  isolated  hills.  It  is  the  story  of  an  in- 
dividual, simply.  Herein  Smiles  turns  her  face  again 
to  her  beloved  mountains  to  help  those  others  who 
"haint  never  hed  no  chance"  to  help  themselves. 

It  should  be  stated  that  "Smiling  Pass"  is  a  purely 
imaginary  spot  which  might  be  located  in  the  moun- 
tain fastnesses  of  any  one  of  the  five  states  sharing 
in  the  Southern  Highlands.  Work  not  unlike  that 
which  is  started  here  is  being  nobly  carried  on  in 
places  there  to-day.  Similarly,  the  characters  intro- 
duced, although  true  to  life,  are  not  patterned  after 
any  particular  set  of  people.  This  is  said  because  the 
author  does  not  wish  any  of  his  mountain  friends, 
among  whom  he  has  dwelt,  to  feel  that  they  have 
been  used  as  "material".  At  the  same  time  he  de- 


sires  to  acknowledge  his  deep  indebtedness  to  them 
all,  and  in  particular  to  one — now  a  law  abiding 
citizen  and  deputy  sheriff,  but  not  long  since  an  out- 
law and  moonshiner — whose  original  song  is  put  into 
the  mouth  of  "Bad  Bill"  Cress  in  the  latter  part  of 
the  book. 

THE  PUBLISHERS. 


CONTENTS 

PART  I 

THE   CAUSE 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.    MOUNTAIN  AND  CITY      ....  i 

II.    SMILES'  LETTER i> 

III.  CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION  .       .       .  22 

IV.  Two  OFFERS 37 

V.    THE  HEART  OF  THE  HELLS    .       .       .       .  52  • 

VI.    THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  KITE    .  67 

VII.    BEATEN  CREEK f  82 

VEIL    VERGIL 97 

IX.    THE  GREATER  VISION 114 

X.    Two  LETTERS  AND  A  BRIEF  DISCUSSION      .  129 
PART  II 

THE   UNFOLDING 

I.    THE  HOME-COMING 139 

II.    INCIDENTS     ENDING    IN    A    "HousE- 

WARMEN'  " ;       .  152 

III.  PROMISES    .       .       .       •    £*'    '•'.   I*'      •  l68 

IV.  MARGARET'S  PLEDGE      .     ^    ^  v     .  183 

XI 


xii  CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PACK 

V.    TROUBLE 197 

VI.    UNEXPECTED  ALLIES 209 

VII.    MAIDS,  MEN — AND  MULES    .       .       .       .225 

VIII.    AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"   ....  242 

PART  III 

THROUGH  SHADOW  TO  SUNSHINE 

I.    IN  RETROSPECT 263 

II.    "THE  PREACHIN'  " 270 

III.  DONALD'S    INSPIRATION     AND    WHAT 

CAME  OF  IT 285 

IV.  THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT 298 

V.  THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW   .   .   .  315 

VI.  THE  CROSS 326 

VII.    THE  CLOUDBURST 339 

Vm.    CLEARING .  353 

IX.    SUNSHINE 360 


SMILING  PASS 


CHAPTER  I 

MOUNTAIN  AND   CITY 

OUT  of  the  mysterious  shadow  that  began  at  the 
very  edge  of  the  ice-fringed  creek  and  abruptly  reared 
its  mountainous  shape  into  the  night  heavens  to  end 
in  an  irregular  peak,  whose  rocks  were  sharply  out' 
lined  against  a  ragged  sky,  three  men  appeared,  riding 
slowly. 

Their  mounts — the  first  a  graceful,  blooded  horse 
which  bore  a  soldierly  young  form,  and  then  two  mules, 
the  second  of  them  almost  gigantic,  as  needs  must  be 
the  bearer  of  such  a  bulky  human  burden  as  the  man 
whose  mighty  thighs  bestrode  it — splashed  diagonally 
through  the  turbulent  waters  of  the  creek,  now  swirl- 
ing about  its  innumerable  boulders  in  scrolls  of  frosted 
silver;  three  misty  silhouettes  momentarily  thrown 
into  relief  against  the  shadow  background  by  the  cold 
light  of  the  mid-winter  moon. 

In  turn  the  plodding  steeds  lurched  up  the  further 
bank  and  approached  the  spot  where,  at  the  base  of 
another  precipitous  Cumberland  Mountain,  whose 


SMILING  PASS 


rockribbed  and  forest  clad  slope  was  more  clearly 
revealed,  a  thin,  perpendicular  line  of  ruddy  light 
disclosed  the  entrance  to  a  double  log  cabin.  Its  low, 
oblong  structure  and  steeply  slanting  roof  could  be 
vaguely  seen  nestling  in  a  little  hollow  amid  leafless 
poplar  trees  and  magnolia  bushes. 

The  youth  in  the  lead  swung  himself  lightly  from 
the  saddle,  turned  and  called  back,  "Better  get  down, 
Judd." 

"Reckon  I'll  go  on  daown,"  curtly  responded  the 
second  rider. 

"You  then,  Billy.    Come  in;  spend  the  night." 

"Don't  guess  I  kin.  You  cum  daown  with  us,"  the 
giant  replied  in  a  rumbling  drawl. 

"I  can't,  to-night.   Better  stay." 

"Reckon  I'll  git  erlong.  Ho-a,  step  on,  Liza  Jane." 
The  big  mule  moved  on  in  the  trail  of  the  other  one 
and  disappeared  amid  the  shadows. 

After  putting  his  own  mount  in  the  shapeless  log 
structure  which  served  as  a  stable,  the  youth  entered 
the  cabin  by  one  of  the  two  doors  that  diagonally 
faced  each  other  on  either  side  of  the  huge  fieldstone 
chimney,  at  once  bisecting  and  uniting  the  dwelling. 

"That  you,  Virgie?"  The  question  was  uttered  in 
a  girlish,  sleepy  voice  behind  him,  as  he  stepped  to 
the  fireplace  built  of  sandstone  blocks  to  thaw  his 
stiffened  fingers  over  the  heap  of  embers  which  still 
glowed  red  on  the  hearth.  Simultaneously  a  child- 
woman  of  perhaps  fourteen  years  appeared  in  the 
doorway,  having  crossed  over  from  the  other  of  the 


MOUNTAIN  AND  CITY 


two  rooms  which  comprised  the  double  cabin.  She 
was  barefoot  and  her  form,  slender  and  graceful,  was 
clothed  in  a  single-piece  dress  of  faded  gingham,  which 
served  alike  as  nightgown  and  a  visible  evidence  that 
she  had  already  made  a  marked  advance  over  most 
of  her  neighbors,  who  were  doubtless  at  that  moment 
asleep  fully  clad  or — at  the  most — in  their  everyday 
undergarments. 

"  Go  on  back  to  bed,  Omie! "  commanded  the  youth. 
"It's  a  bitter  cold  night  and  you'll  freeze,  standing 
there  like  that.  Look  at  the  snow  on  your  feet!  Is 
mother  asleep?" 

"I  reckon." 

Instead  of  obeying  his  injunction  the  girl  shook 
back  the  mass  of  unbound  chestnut  hair  from  her 
sleepy  eyes,  pushed  forward  a  handmade  stool  with 
seat  of  woven  hickory  bark,  stripped  thin  and  smooth, 
and  dropped  thereon,  with  her  bare  feet  extended  to 
the  comfortable  warmth.  The  man  tossed  an  armful 
of  split  logs  onto  the  quarry-stone  slabs  which  served 
as  andirons,  then  knelt  and  blew  steadily  on  the 
embers  until  the  wood  had  begun  to  blaze  merrily, 
its  colorful  light  illuminating  the  simple,  windowless 
room. 

Then  he,  too,  drew  up  a  stool. 

"What  luck?"  asked  the  girl. 

He  laughed,  a  little  bitterly.  "Nothing  doing.  It's 
apparently  a  brand  new  idea  to  Uncle  Sam  and  he 
can't  get  it  at  all." 

"Oh,  I'm  so  sorry,  Virgie." 


SMILING  PASS 


"It's  all  part  of  the  game.  Perhaps  some  other  way 
will  be  opened.  Darn  it,  it  must."  He  spoke  doggedly. 

For  a  little  while  brother  and  sister  talked  together, 
in  low  voices.  Then  the  girl  frankly  yawned,  arose, 
kissed  him  and  ran  back  across  the  little  snow-covered 
porch  to  her  bed  in  the  other  room. 

The  youth  went  to  a  rude  shelf  on  the  further  wall, 
took  down  a  book  and,  half-turning  his  straight  back 
to  the  firelight,  began  to  read. 

The  cover  to  the  volume  bore  the  title,  "Lives  of 
Great  Leaders." 

"  Come  in,  boys  and  thaw  out.  Brrr!  It's  almost  as 
cold  in  here  as  it  is  out-of-doors.  Apparently  our 
estimable  janitor  hasn't  yet  heard  that  the  war  is 
over." 

"Probably  he's  become  so  thoroughly  imbued  with 
the  spirit  of  conservation  during  the  late  unpleasant- 
ness that  he  unconsciously  continues  to  apply  it — to 
his  energy,"  another  voice  in  the  darkness  answered. 

Dr.  Bentley's  groping  hand  found  the  electric 
switch  and  there  was  light.  He  laughed  as  he  replied, 
"Well,  if  you'll  have  patience  I'll  promise  to  'make  it 
hot  for  you'  in  a  minute." 

While  the  other  two  were  divesting  themselves  of 
their  big  fur  coats  their  host  busied  himself  before 
the  tapestry  brick  fireplace,  laying  the  split  birch  logs 
and  kindling  with  an  experienced  hand.  One  of  his 
visitors  began  to  fuss  with  the  radiator  valve  with  the 
familiarity  of  a  frequent  visitor,  while  the  other,  a 


MOUNTAIN  AND  CITY 


stranger  to  the  room,  stood  heavily  planted  on  two 
muscular  legs  and  looked  critically  about  him.  Al- 
though his  countenance  retained  its  customary  im- 
mobility, which  had  earned  for  him  the  jocular  title 
of  "  the  man  with  the  iron  mask  " — a  title  never  spoken 
to  his  face,  needless  to  say — a  physiognomist  might 
have  found  the  suggestion  of  a  sneer  in  his  eyes,  as 
they  traveled  slowly  about  the  cosy  study  with  its 
many  artistic  and  costly  furnishings. 

Perhaps  he  was  contrasting  it,  and  unfavorably, 
with  his  own  bare  chamber,  for,  whatever  anyone 
might  say  about  Dr.  John  Hunter,  all  agreed  that  he 
was  a  worker  and  a  fighter  who  allowed  nothing  to 
detract  his  attention  from  whatever  goal  he  purposed 
to  achieve.  The  pleasant  superfluities  of  life,  mental 
or  material,  held  no  place  in  his  plan  of  living.  This 
fact  might,  indeed,  have  been  gathered  from  his  face, 
which  was  strongly  moulded,  with  rugged  features, 
black  eyes  that  seemed  to  bore  into  the  object  of  their 
gaze  from  beneath  heavily  over-hanging  brows,  and 
a  broad  mouth  whose  compressed  lips  appeared  in- 
capable of  smiling.  That  he  was,  indeed,  an  inde- 
fatigable worker  and  already  unquestionably  on  the 
road  to  becoming  an  able  physician  was  almost  all 
that  was  known  about  him  by  his  two  companions, 
although  rare  remarks  which  he  had  dropped  concern- 
ing his  past  had  led  them  to  understand  that  he  had 
come  from  Tennessee,  been  born  in  poverty  and  fought 
his  way  through  an  education  which  he  was  now  com- 
pleting at  the  Boston  City  Hospital.  All  else  was 
conjecture. 


6 SMILING  PASS 

Philip  Bentley  completed  his  task  to  his  satisfaction, 
struck  a  match  and  briskly  exclaimed,  "Ready,  aim, 
FIRE!" 

The  flame  caught  the  corner  of  the  underlying 
paper,  there  was  a  muffled  "whuff",  a  merry  crackle 
and  in  a  moment  the  grate  was  beginning  to  lend 
warm  encouragement  to  the  radiator's  half-hearted 
efforts.  The  host  offered  cigars  and  cigarettes,  both 
of  which  Dr.  Hunter  refused,  proclaiming  his  prefer- 
ence for  a  blackened  briar  pipe  which  he  stuffed  with 
slice-cut  from  his  own  leather  pouch.  As  he  did  so  he 
moved  ponderously  to  a  place  before  the  fire,  and  now 
pointed  with  the  pipe's  stem  to  a  photograph  in  a 
handcarved  gold  frame,  which  held  the  central  posi- 
tion on  the  mantelpiece. 

"How  does  it  happen  that  you're  still  a  bachelor, 
Bentley,  when  you  have  the  picture  of  a  girl  like  that 
in  the  place  of  honor?  "  he  demanded  in  a  deep  voice, 
which  always  somehow  gave  the  impression  of  heavy 
feet  plodding  forward. 

Fortunately  for  Philip  the  speaker's  back  was 
turned  towards  him,  and  he  therefore  could  not  ob- 
serve the  quick  flush  which  overspread  the  young 
doctor's  sensitive,  attractive  face.  The  innocent 
question  had  brought  back  bitter-sweet  memories. 

After  a  brief  instant  he  answered  in  his  customary 
laughing  tone,  "Oh,  she's  only  my  sister." 

"  Congratulations  on  having  one  such.  Women  have 
no  place  in  my  life — haven't  time  for  them — but  if  I 
ever  should  marry  I'd  try  to  seek  a  wife  of  exactly 
that  type." 


MOUNTAIN  AND  CITY 


"Well,  you're  too  late  to  'speak  for  yourself,  John'," 
answered  the  other  visitor,  Dr.  Neale.  "At  least  in 
the  present  instance,  for  she's  happily  married  al- 
ready." 

"The  desirable  ones  usually  are.  That  photograph, 
now — I'm  no  judge  of  art,  neither  time  nor  inclina- 
tion for  it,  but  it  strikes  me  as  probably  a  good  like- 
ness, it's  so  full  of  character.  And  there's  something 
a  bit  remarkable  about  it,  too.  The  face  is  serious 
enough,  but  somewhere,  either  in  the  eyes  or  about 
the  mouth,  there's  the  lurking  suggestion  of  a  latent 
smile.  I  like  it." 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned!"  Neale  exclaimed.  "Here, 
let's  look  at  that — it  must  be  a  'speaking  likeness'  if 
it  instantly  suggests  her  appellation  to  an  entire 
stranger.  Yes,  I  might  have  known  it.  They're  there, 
Phil." 

"What  are?"  inquired  Dr.  Hunter. 

"  'Smiles',  old  fellow.  And  thereby  hangs  a  tale. 
Tell  him  the  story,  Phil;  it  should  interest  him,  for 
apparently  their  early  histories  form  somewhat  of  a 
parallel.  The  telling  will  take  just  about  long  enough 
for  us  to  get  properly  thawed  out.  If  only  the  war 
had  not  placed  the  shackles  of  National  Prohibition 
upon  us,  perhaps  mine  host  would  ..." 

"He  would  not  and  it  did  not — here,"  broke  in 
Philip,  decisively.  "  'Smiles'  brought  it  to  pass  before 
our  Uncle  Samuel  thought  of  it  seriously.  As  for  the 
yarn,  if  you  want  it  told,  and  Hunter  cares  to  hear  it, 
turn  narrator  yourself  while  I  see  if  the  mail  box  holds 


8  SMILING  PASS 

anything  beside  the  usual  first  of  the  month  'please' 
remits' — if  I  may  be  excused  for  a  moment." 

His  guests  nodded  assent  and  Philip  stepped  to  the 
door  while  Neale  remarked,  "  'Barkis  is  willin',  if  you 
think  that  you  would  be  duly  interested  in  the  story 
of  the  most  popular  nurse  who  ever  trod  the  floors  of 
the  C.  H.,  Hunter." 

The  other  looked  back  at  the  photograph.  "I'm1 
sure  that  I  should  be,"  he  answered.  "So  she  is  a 
Children's  Hospital  graduate?" 

"Yes,  and  married  to  a  specialist  in  children's- 
diseases  whom  you  probably  have  never  met,  since 
they  have  both  been  in  France,  working  with  the 
refugee  children,  for  more  than  a  year — he  almost 
continuously  since  'fifteen — ;  but  his  name — Donald 
MacDonald — may  be  familiar  to  you." 

"Not  the  man  who  had  such  success  in  operating 
for  brain  tumors? "  There  was  a  new,  eager  light  in 
Hunter's  deep  eyes.  An  appeal  to  the  man  might  stir 
him  only  mildly,  but  one  to  the  physician  instantly 
aroused  his  interest. 

"The  same." 

"That's  a  coincidence.  I've  just  finished  reading 
a  monograph  on  that  subject  by  Dr.  MacDonald,  and 
was  wishing  that  I  might  meet  and,  perhaps,  study 
with  him." 

"Hurrah!  Speaking  of  angels,"  cried  Philip  from 
the  doorway,  as  he  boyishly  waved  a  bulky  envelope 
above  his  head.  "I've  been  waiting  for  a  letter  from 
.Rose  for  weeks  and  to-night's  mail  brought  it.  Sit 


MOUNTAIN  AND  CITY  9 

down,  boys,  and  you,  Tom,  string  your  story  out,  like 
a  good  chap.  I'll  be  a  poor  host  for  some  time  to  come, 
judging  from  the  external  dimensions  of  this  epistle." 

"Go  to  it;  I'll  do  my  best,  although  I  know  merely 
the  sketchy  outlines  of  Smiles'  story,"  answered  Dr. 
Neale.  With  cigars  and  pipe  alight  the  three  men 
seated  themselves  in  a  semicircle  before  the  friendly 
fire  and,  while  Philip  busied  himself  with  his  letter, 
the  narrator  commenced  his  recital  by  saying,  "I 
wonder  if  your  imagination  is  strong  enough  to  carry 
you  into  the  heart  of  the  Cumberlands,  with  its 
romantic  feuds,  hidden  moonshine  stills,  picturesque 
people  ..." 

"Are  its  people  picturesque?"  abruptly  demanded 
the  other. 

"Why,  I've  always  been  led  to  believe  so.  Didn't 
you  ever  read  any  novels  on  the  Cumberlands  ..." 

"Never  read  novels.  Well,  go  on.  I  shouldn't  have 
interrupted,  but  ...  I  happen  to  have  a  super- 
ficial acquaintance  with  the  Southern  Highlands  and 
I  guess  that  I  can  paint  the  picture." 

"Better  than  I  can  myself,  probably,  if  that's  the 
case.  Well,  it  was  into  that  region  that  Don  went  on 
a  tramping  trip  some  ten  years  ago." 

As  Neale  continued  with  his  introductory  sentences 
Hunter  found  his  attention  focused  rather  on  their 
host,  whom  he  was  half-facing,  than  on  the  story- 
teller and  he  caught  himself  thinking,  "So  she's  his 
sister.  They  don't  look  in  the  least  alike  and  I'll  wager 
that  they're  not." 


10  SMILING  PASS 

Psychological  analysis  was  his  one  hobby — if  any- 
thing so  intimately  related  to  his  profession  could  be 
called  an  avocation.  Now,  while  he  listened  to  Dr. 
Neale,  he  unconsciously  studied  the  other  man,  upon 
whose  countenance  varying  emotions  were  being 
clearly  depicted  as  he  read. 

"Bentley's  certainly  an  odd  mixture,"  he  mused, 
for  a  moment  giving  more  attention  to  his  own 
thoughts  than  to  the  story.  "He's  gifted — or  cursed — 
with  a  peculiarly  sensitive  soul,  for  a  guess.  And  he's 
a  bit  of  a  genius;  he  never  got  his  proficiency  as  a 
surgeon  through  the  grinding  work  which  has  been 
my  portion.  Highly  sensitized;  almost  like  a  woman; 
got  emotions — he  keeps  'em  under  cover  pretty  well, 
except  when  he's  of!  his  guard,  as  now — but  I'll  bet 
he  touches  the  heights  and  sounds  the  depths  as  well. 
I  don't  envy  him,  poor  devil.  And,  Lord,  how  skinny ! " 

His  coldly  appraising  gaze  took  in  Philip's  long, 
slender  legs,  now  stretched  out  to  the  warmth  of  the 
blaze,  and  the  nearest  suggestion  of  a  smile  which  ever 
showed  in  his  piercing  eyes  appeared  for  an  instant 
as  his  thoughts  reverted  to  one  afternoon  when  the 
other  had  laughingly  characterized  himself  as  "the 
closest  human  approach  to  the  geometric  definition 
of  a  straight  line — that  which  has  one  dimension  only, 
namely  length,"  and  had  declared  that  if  they  were 
to  look,  and  see  nobody,  it  would  probably  be  he, 
standing  side  view. 

"He  is  built  more  like  a  slender  woman  than  a 
man,"  thought  Hunter,  as  he  glanced  down  at  his  own 


MOUNTAIN  AND  CITY  11 

muscular  legs  and  brawny  hands.  "But  he's  rather 
surprisingly  strong,  for  all  that.  Wonder  where  he 
stores  all  his  nervous  energy?" 

The  analyzer's  gaze  returned  to  Philip's  patrician 
face,  crowned  with  its  thick,  blond  hair  which  was 
brushed  back  from  his  high  forehead  in  a  series  of 
well-defined  waves.  At  that  moment  its  look  was  one 
of  deep  concern,  and  the  usual  laughing  light  in  his 
clear  blue  eyes  had  been  supplanted  by  an  expression 
of  almost  womanly  sympathy. 

"What  a  damned  shame!"  Philip's  explosive  ex- 
clamation interrupted  the  story  and  the  analysis  alike. 

"Nothing  wrong,  I  hope?"  interjected  Dr.  Neale, 
solicitously. 

"Well,  rather.  Don  .  .  .  Wait  awhile,  until 
we've  both  finished  our  stories  and  I'll  tell  you. 
Humble  apologies  for  my  interruption." 

The  other  continued  and  Hunter  found  himself 
becoming  more  and  more  interested  in  the  recital. 
Indeed,  he  entirely  forgot  the  presence  of  his  host 
until  again  reminded  of  it  by  another  exclamation, 
this  time  uttered  in  a  tone  of  pure  pleasure,  "Bully 
for  you,  Rose — bless  your  heart!" 

His  two  guests  looked  up  from  the  glowing  fire  to 
see  him  smiling,  but  he  answered  their  interrogative 
glances  merely  by  shaking  his  head. 

Folding  the  letter  carefully,  Philip  replaced  it  in 
its  envelope  and  then  sat,  silent,  except  for  the  occa- 
sional addition  of  some  detail,  until  Dr.  Neale  ended 
his  recital  with  the  words,  "And  that  concludes  the 


12 SMILING  PASS 

story  of  little  Smiles  whom  we  used  to  call  'The 
Rose  of  the  Cumberlands' — if  marriage  is  the  con- 
clusion of  any  life- romance." 

"As,  of  course,  it  is  not,"  Hunter  responded,  quietly. 
"Thanks,  it  has  been  an  entertaining  story — but  the 
real  drama  may  be  in  the  making;  one  never  can  tell. 
By  the  way,"  he  added,  addressing  Philip.  "How  old 
is  your  'little  Smiles' — if  the  question  is  not  an  im- 
pertinent one?" 

"Twenty-four,  next  summer." 

"And  so  really  just  approaching  the  most  interest- 
ing age  in  woman,"  said  the  other. 

After  a  little  sympathetic  discussion  relative  to 
Dr.  MacDonald's  ill-fortune,  recounted  by  Philip, 
the  other  two  bundled  themselves  up  and  took  their 
departure.  Their  host  accompanied  them  to  the  door 
and,  returning,  turned  off  the  electric  light.  Then  he 
resumed  his  place  before  the  hearth.  For  a  time  he 
sat  there,  deep  in  thought.  Then  he  took  out  the  letter 
again,  turned  his  slender,  straight  back  to  the  fire, 
and  re-read  its  closely  written  pages  by  the  changeful 
illumination. 


CHAPTER  II 

SMILES'  LETTER 

"SOMEWHERE  IN  FRANCE," 
November  i,  1918. 
"Dearest  Philip, 

So  you  dare  call  me  an  unsatisfactory  letter  writer, 
sir,  after  Donald  bestowed  upon  me  the  title  of  '  the 
perfect  correspondent!'  I  seem  to  hear  you  answer 
in  your  musical  voice,  'But  there  is  a  world  of  differ- 
ence between  writing  to  a  brother  and  to  a  lover'. 
Perhaps  it  is  true  and — to  become  serious  as  I  shall 
have  to,  soon,  for  this  letter  must  be  keyed  chiefly  in 
the  minor — I  cannot  blame  you  for  complaining  a 
little  over  my  epistolary  derelictions.  (Imagine  'little 
Smiles'  of  six  or  seven  years  ago  using  such  language! 
I  can  scarcely  myself  believe  that  I  am  that  same  girl, 
so  much  has  happened  in  so  short  a  time.  Me,  a  truly 
trained  nurse,  a  city  dweller,  a  year-old  married 
woman,  and,  for  a  year,  a  resident  of  France — a 
country  which  was  once  as  far  away  and  as  unreal 
to  me  as  the  lost  Atlanta,  despite  my  love  for  it  as 
the  home  of  '  Jone  of  Ark,'  as  I  used  to  spell  my  child- 
hood's idol !  Incredible !  I  must  be  dreaming !) 

Perhaps,  before  you  are  through  reading  this  you 
will  regret  your  taunt,  for  I  have  not  only  a  deal  to 
write  about,  but  am  'in  the  mood'  and  may  ramble 
on  indefinitely.  But  to  return  to  our  starting  point 
You  would  not  blame  me,  either,  if  you  could  see  how 
13 


14 SMILING  PASS 

almost  impossibly  busy  I  am  from  every  morn  to  mid- 
night, and  working  overtime  without  'time  and  a 
half  pay,  either — which  is  more  than  can  be  said  of 
most  modern  laborers.  The  reason?  That  is  what 
this  letter  is  about  and  I  cannot  put  off  the  inevitable 
much  longer.  Prepare  your  mind,  then,  for  a  mixed 
cargo. 

You  know  my  cowardly  habit  of  always  wanting 
to  get  the  worst  over  and  done  with — or  perhaps  my 
' child  habit'  of  saving  the  frosting  for  the  end — so  I 
shall  begin  with  the  shadows  and  leave  the  sunshine 
for  the  bye  and  bye.  And  the  shadows  are  heavy  ones, 
Philip,  I  can't  smile  them  away,  no  matter  how  hard 
I  try. 

Years  ago,  on  the  mountains,  when  dear  old  grand- 
daddy  was  taken  sick,  Donald  told  me  that  nurses 
must  learn  the  truth  and  face  it  bravely,  and  I  am 
trying  to  do  so,  although  it  is  hard,  both  to  believe 
and  to  keep  my  courage  up.  For  the  truth  is  that 
Donald  is  practically  a  cripple  and  growing  worse 
daily!  I  can  hardly  bear  even  to  think  of  it — much 
less  set  it  down  like  that,  in  cold  black  and  white. 

I  let  you  know,  months  ago,  that  he  was  beginning 
to  suffer  off  and  on  with  muscular  rheumatism  and 
sciatica,  brought  on — I  suppose — by  the  extremely 
damp  climate  of  Northeastern  France  while  his  system 
was  pulled  down  through  long-continued  overwork. 
At  the  start  both  of  us  tried  to  dismiss  it,  optimisti- 
cally, as  something  of  a  merely  temporary  character. 
But  now  I  realize  that  it  is  not.  The  doctors  here — 
and,  as  you  know,  French  physicians  are  very  skillful 
in  diagnosis  and  the  use  of  prescriptive  remedies  even 
if  they  lack  something  of  my  doctor's  skill  in  surgery 
— have  been  wholly  unable  to  help  him. 

Of  course  he  has  his  days  of  partial  freedom  from 


SMILES'  LETTER 15 

pain,  but  during  the  past  few  weeks  he  has  been  con- 
fined either  to  his  bed  or  a  well-pillowed  wheel-chair. 
You  might  know  it  would  be  that,  for  even  when  he 
cannot  touch  his  feet  to  the  floor  he  insists  upon  mak- 
ing his  daily  rounds.  Fortunately — or  wwfortunately 
— the  hospital  is  all  on  one  floor. 

It  is  too  pathetic,  Phil — that  great,  strong  man  who 
all  his  life  has  been  so  active  and  athletic,  wheeling 
himself  about  like  a  disabled  soldier.  And  so,  indeed, 
he  is.  The  children  in  the  different  wards  have  more 
than  ever  endeared  themselves  to  me  by  the  way  in 
which  they  forget  their  own  misery  in  trying  to  cheer 
him  up,  for  they  all  adore  him.  One  little  angel,  whose 
pain-filled  visit  to  this  world  will  soon  end,  got  hold 
of  a  small  piece  of  flannel  and  made  a  wound  chevron 
which  she  insisted  on  basting  upon  his  right  sleeve, 
since  when  I  have  been  kept  busy  removing  and  re- 
placing it,  for  I  could  not  let  her  see  him  with  it  miss- 
ing. It  is  the  little  incidents  like  that,  even  more  than 
the  continued  pity,  which  wring  my  heart  the  hardest. 

Donald  is  patient — wonderfully  so — ,  but  he  is  a 
man,  and  when  the  pain  has  continued  for  a  long 
period  it  sometimes  bores  a  little  well  in  his  heart  and 
the  waters  of  bitterness  flow  for  a  time.  Then  I  have 
to  hold  him  close  and  work  my  hardest  to  '  cheer  him 
with  a  smile'.  It  is  hard — no,  I  will  not  say  that;  but 
rather  thank  God  that  I  am  with  him  and  can  give 
him  a  tiny  bit  of  consolation  in  repayment  to  all  that 
he  has  done  for  me.  If  I  could  love  him  more  I  should 
do  so  now.  I  suppose  that  it's  the  mother  instinct 
which  lies  in  the  heart  of  every  woman  and  is  called 
into  being  when  some  one  she  loves  dearly  is  helpless 
and  in  pain. 

Of  course  I  began,  weeks  ago,  to  plead  for  an  early 
return  to  America,  for  I  felt  that  we  could  now  leave 


16 SMILING  PASS 

without  compunction — the  French  have  practically 
taken  over  the  hospital  and  are  doing  a  wonder  work 
here — but  Donald,  with  the  stubbornness  of  your  kind, 
would  not  agree.  He  was  going  to  be  all  right  again 
in  a  day  or  two,  and  he  has  always  spelt  DUTY  as  I 
did  then — in  capital  letters.  But  now  he  sees  that  it 
is  the  only  course  to  pursue  and  we  are  leaving  for 
home  just  as  soon  as  it  is  possible.  Every  day  brings 
rumors  that  an  armistice  is  likely  to  be  declared  and 
if  that  blessed  cessation  of  the  fighting  should  occur 
our  departure  will  follow  speedily,  unless  .  .  .  but 
I'm  saving  that  for  the  end. 

Oh,  how  I  long,  until  the  longing  hurts,  for  the  hour 
when  I  shall  see  home  and  all  of  you  again. 

And  now  for  a  surprise.  We  are  not  coming  alone. 
I  have,  I  think,  from  time  to  time  mentioned  the 
name  of  Camille  Laporte — the  orphaned  Belgian 
child  who  has  been  my  ever  faithful  helper  since  our 
arrival  here.  Both  Donald  and  I  have  grown  very, 
very  fond  of  her  and  since  she  is  utterly  alone  in  the 
world  I  suggested  that  we  take  her  to  America  as  our 
little  protegee.  The  child's  gratitude — the  silent  kind 
which  has  no  tongue  and  needs  none  for  eloquence — 
was  almost  pitiful.  We  love  each  other  dearly,  but 
her  affection  for  Donald  whom  she  has,  of  course, 
known  the  longer,  is  more  nearly  akin  to  worship, 
especially  since  he  exerted  his  really  great  influence 
with  the  officials  and  made  my  plan  possible.  She 
will  be  a  very  great  help  and  comfort  to  me. 

You  will  see  her  soon;  but,  as  we  are  going  '  to  make 
her  family' — as  you  used  to  say — I  will  try  to  give 
you  just  a  hint  of  her  history  and  characteristics,  for 
at  first  glance  she  might  seem  like  an  odd  little  thing; 
nor  is  it  strange  that  she  is  different  from  other  chil- 
dren. (I  keep  referring  to  her  as  a  child,  from  force 


SMILES'  LETTER 17 

of  habit.  She  really  is  nearly  eighteen,  and  that  is 
'grown-up'  over  here). 

Camille  was  the  daughter  of  the  Mayor  of  a  small 
Belgian  village  in  the  Ypres  sector,  at  school  in  a 
convent  when  the  war  began.  The  Sisters  fled  with 
their  little  charges  before  the  Sadie  hordes,  but 
Camille — then  barely  thirteen — ran  away  from  the 
others  and,  on  foot,  returned  home  to  be  with  her 
father.  Her  courage  was  in  vain,  except  perhaps  to 
add  the  final  blow  in  tempering  his  own.  He  sent  her 
with  other  refugees  across  the  border  to  France  and 
safety,  to  stay  on  himself  with  the  remnant  of  his 
flock  and  face  the  wolves.  They  shot  him,  on  a 
trumped  up  pretext — shot  him  in  cold  blood  for  being 
true  to  his  country  and  his  king! 

So,  you  see,  the  years  which  should  be  the  happiest 
and  most  free  from  care  in  a  young  girl's  life  have, 
for  Camille,  been  lived  under  the  blackest  shadow — 
orphaned,  homeless,  in  a  strange  land  and  spent  amid 
scenes  of  desolation  and  suffering.  One  might  say 
that  she  has  been  robbed  of  the  priceless  gift  of  child- 
hood, since  she  has  worked  constantly  during  the  past 
four  years,  at  first  aiding  other  refugees,  and  later  as 
a  volunteer  helper  in  this  hospital.  Is  it  strange  that 
she  is  'different';  or  that  she  wholly  lost  her  child- 
hood faith  and  turned  from  God  as  a  vain  myth? 

We  have  purposely  kept  her  close  to  us — Don  and 
I — ,  and  he  has  continued  her  education  while  I  have 
tried  to  lighten  some  of  the  shadows  which  filled  her 
soul  and — thanks  to  a  few  seeds  of  spiritual  under- 
standing which  my  dear  'Reverend'  sowed  in  my 
own  childish  mind  in  the  mountains — I  think  that  I 
have  succeeded  a  little.  At  least  she  has  learned  the 
great  lesson  of  Service  which  is  close  to  Christianity; 


18 SMILING  PASS 

if  it  is  not,  indeed,  the  true  touchstone  of  our  religion. 
You  believe  that,  don't  you,  Philip? 

Yes,  Camille  is  different  from  other  girls;  deeply 
serious,  and  sad;  but  her  sadness  is  of  the  sweet, 
appealing  kind  and  never  morose.  It  is  one  of  my 
dreams  to  bring  her  the  delayed  happiness  of  child- 
hood, even  yet. 

I  cannot  describe  her,  other  than  to  say  that  she 
is  of  rather  less  than  medium  height,  and  sturdily 
yet  beautifully  formed.  As  to  her  face,  sometimes  I 
think  it  the  loveliest  I  ever  saw;  sometimes  scarcely 
pretty  at  all,  it  is  so  serious.  But  her  hair  is  a  glory — 
like  a  black  storm  cloud — and  her  dark  eyes  are  so 
large  and  wistfully  deep  that  once  seen  they  can  never 
be  forgotten.  I  am  sure  that  you  will  like  her.  The 
sympathetic  and  artistic  vein  in  you  cannot  but  re- 
spond to  her  sad  appeal. 

Indeed,  I  have  sometimes  had  another  dream  for 
her.  She  would  make  a  perfect  mate  for  some  one 
whom  I  know  and  love;  they  are  spiritually  so  much 
alike  yet  so  different  physically  and  as  to  mental  char- 
acteristics. But  I  shall  not  tell  him  of  my  dream — 
matchmaking  is  dangerous  business  and  I  hope  that 
I  am  not  so  unwise  as  a  friend  of  mine  was,  in  C.  H. 
days.  She  had  invited  me  to  spend  a  'night  off'  at 
her  home  and,  as  we  entered  the  house,  whispered, 
'I  hope  that  you  will  be  your  brightest  to-night,  dear, 
for  there  are  going  to  be  several  guests  and  I  have 
told  them  all  about  your  fascinating  smile.'  Can 
you  imagine  it?  I  was  never  so  glum  in  all  my  life 
and  fairly  hated  that  peculiar  tendency  of  mine  to 
look  like  a  cheerful  idiot. 

There,  my  letter  is  only  half  done  and  I  have  stolen 
all  the  time  I  dare  and  a  little  more — like  the  old 
lady's  recipe  for  making  cranberry  sauce.  'Put  in 


SMILES'  LETTER  19 

all  the  sugar  that  you  can  afford,  then  close  your  eyes 
and  add  a  cupful.'  I  shall  have  to  finish  this  to- 
morrow night.  Whether  you  are  being  bored,  or  not, 
at  least  you  cannot  complain  of  its  brevity.  Good- 
night, dear." 

Philip  paused  before  picking  up  the  next  page  and 
sat  looking  dreamily  into  the  heart  of  the  fire  for  a 
moment.  His  eyes  held  a  tender  light,  partly  called 
into  existence  by  his  love  for  his  sister,  partly  by 
sympathy  for  the  girl  whom  she  had  described.  Then 
he  smiled  and  shook  his  head,  saying  aloud,  "Noth- 
ing doing,  Rose.  I  have  loved  just  one  girl  and  shall 
never  love  another  unless  there's  one  in  the  world 
exactly  like  you — and  that's  impossible." 

He  stirred  up  the  glowing  embers,  put  on  another 
log  and,  as  soon  as  it  had  caught  fire  enough  to  re- 
illumine  the  letter,  continued  with  his  reading. 

"Mid-night,  November  2nd. 

"Donald  has  been  a  little  more  confortable  to-day 
and  is  now  sleeping  like  a  baby — my  big  baby.  I  am 
writing  by  the  light  of  one  candle,  with  a  comforter 
bundled  about  me,  for  the  room  is  very  chill  and  damp, 
so  if  my  writing  is  illegible  I  have  two  perfectly  good 
excuses.  I  sometimes  wonder  that  I  have  kept  so 
disgustingly  well — my  childhood  on  the  mountain 
must  have  made  me  weather-proof. 

But  I  have  no  time  for  lengthy  introductions  and 
there  are  two  more  topics  to  be  touched  upon  briefly, 
as  ministers  say  in  preluding  another  hour  of  ser- 
monizing. 

Your  last  letter  brought  me  mingled  pleasure  and 
disappointment.  In  a  way  I  had  always  secretly 
hoped  that  Granddaddy's  prophecy  that  that  was  a 


20  SMILING  PASS 

'gold  mine'  of  coal  underneath  my  little  mountain 
property  might  be  fulfilled,  for  I  could  do  so  much 
good  with  the  money,  but  we  do  not  need  it — of  course 
Donald  is  well  to  do;  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  ava- 
rice, I  used  to  think.  So  I  have  forgotten  my  first 
disappointment  upon  hearing  that  the  vein  of  precious 
coal,  in  prospecting  for  which  father's  life  and  moth- 
er's, too,  were  tragically  sacrificed,  does  not  extend 
to  the  eastern  side  of  the  mountain,  in  a  very  real 
relief.  My  mountain  Eden  will  for  a  time  longer  re- 
main unspoiled  by  the  rude  hand  of  commercialism. 

Oh,  if  you  could  only  know  that  primitive  Paradise 
as  we  know  it,  Phil, — the  impressive  solitudes  where 
man  and  his  temporal  troubles  seem  so  insignificant, 
the  tall  trees  and  delicate  ferns  and  flowers:  nature 
so  big,  so  strong;  so  primal  and  passionate  at  times! 
It  may  be  true  that  America  is  becoming  a  nation  of 
city  dwellers,  but  I  shall  always  think  of  it  as  more 
nearly  typified  by  my  mountains  and  France's  older 
civilization  as  represented  by  this  intensively  culti- 
vated land  with  its  close-packed  little  stone  villages, 
its  formal  canals  and  its  historic  cities  and  cathedrals. 
I  love  it,  but  sometimes — as  to-night — my  heart 
fairly  cries  out  for  my  early  home  which  I  left  so  long 
ago,  measured  by  experiences  rather  than  years.  I 
am  sure  that  you  would  love  it,  too,  despite  the  fact 
that  you  seem  to  be  essentially  a  city  product.  I 
wonder  if  Camille  would? — it  is  so  different  from  any- 
thing that  she  has  ever  known! 

Does  my  hint  mean  anything  to  you?  I  have  a  plan 
which  I  have  not  dared  to  disclose  even  to  Donald, 
yet,  and  which  I  must  discuss  with  you  just  as  soon 
as  we  reach  home  for,  if  it  is  to  be  carried  out,  your 
aid  is  essential.  Poor  Donald! 

And  now  for  the  bright  thread  which  I  promised 


SMILES'  LETTER 21 

at  the  start  of  this  book-length  letter.  It  is,  rather, 
a  rainbow  promise  of  sunshine  to  follow  soon.  You — 
as  brother  and  doctor  combined — can  hear  about  it. 
Dear  Philip,  my  most  blessed  dream  is  soon  coming 
true.  You  know  how  I  worship  babies  and  I'm  sure 
you  can  guess  the  rest. 

Just  think,  the  next  tune  that  you  hear  from  me 
the  words  may  not  be  written  but  spoken  from 
within  the  circle  of  your  arms. 

With  love — in  which  Donald  no  less  sincerely,  but 
with  manlike  reserve,  joins  me — I  am 

Most  affectionately  your  sister, 

ROSE." 


CHAPTER  HI 

CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION 

THE  "unless  .  .  .,"  which  ended  that  sentence 
in  Rose's  letter  to  Philip  which  prophesied  a  speedy 
homecoming,  crystallized  into  a  reality.  Although 
the  longed-for  armistice  was  actually  signed  little 
more  than  a  week  later,  it  rather  hindered  than 
helped,  for  the  crowds  of  casuals  which  immediately 
began  to  fill  the  ships  westward-bound  made  it  dif- 
ficult for  them  to  secure  accommodations  in  advance. 
And  then  came  a  further  enforced  delay.  The  "rain- 
bow of  promise"  touched  the  earth  in  far-off  France 
and  Rose  and  Donald  found  the  fabled  pot  of  gold 
at  its  end. 

The  descriptive  phrase  was,  oddly  enough,  Don- 
ald's own,  for  the  poetic  instinct  which  lay  buried 
within  his  deeply  reserved  nature  was  for  a  moment 
uncovered  when  Camille  came  into  the  little  room 
where  he  was  waiting,  in  almost  unbearable  agony 
of  body  and  mind,  and  laid  in  his  powerful,  trembling 
arms  his  first-born  child — a  little  daughter  whose 
shapely  head  was  neither  bald  nor  covered  with  the 
usual  dark  fuzz,  but  bright  with  a  silken  down  of 
purest  gold.  As  she  lay  looking  up,  wide-eyed,  at 
the  strange  earth  creature  to  whom  she  owed  her 
22 


CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION    23 

mortal  life,  the  suggestion  of  a  smile  touched  her 
baby  lips.  The  doctor  might  have  said  that  a  wee, 
colicky  pain  caused  it,  but  the  father  knew  better. 
And  "Smiles,  junior"  she  was  from  that  instant. 
It  was  full  two  months  before  they  could  succeed 
in  getting  passage  home,  and  even  then  a  shadow 
marred  the  keenly  anticipated  arrival,  after  a  rough 
and  trying  trip.  For  Philip  was  unable  to  greet  them 
either  at  New  York  or  in  Boston,  a  medical  conven- 
tion in  the  middle  west  claiming  him,  and  the  home- 
like residence  of  Donald's  sister,  Ethel  Thayer,  on 
Beacon  Street,  seemed  strangely  empty,  despite  the 
loving  presence  of  Ethel  and  her  genial  husband, 
little  Muriel  and  baby  Don,  now  a  sturdy  youngster 
of  almost  five.  For  father  MacDonald  was  no  longer 
one  of  the  family  circle,  and  the  pain  which  news  of 
his  sudden  death  had  caused,  a  year  previous,  was 
renewed  and  intensified. 

The  day  after  their  arrival,  as  Rose  was  passing 
alone  through  the  big  hall,  the  front  door  was  un- 
ceremoniously flung  open  and  Philip  sprang  in,  cry- 
ing out  the  single  word,  "Smiles!"  For  a  full  moment 
brother  and  sister  held  each  other  close,  without 
further  speech,  and  Rose  made  known  her  over- 
flowing happiness  with  laughter  and  tears  inter- 
mingled. 

Even  when  the  man  found  words  to  utter  they 
were  not  for  her,  as  he  demanded,  eagerly,  "Where's 
the  cabled  baby?  I  can't  wait  another  minute  to 
see  Smiles,  junior." 


24  SMILING  PASS 

"Then  look  appropriately  above  you,  for  the 
queen  herself  descendeth,"  answered  his  sister, 
proudly. 

He  obeyed.  On  the  upper  landing  of  the  broad 
stairway  hesitated  a  girl  who  was  a  stranger  to  him, 
a  young  woman  whose  countenance  appeared  doubly 
pale  in.  contrast  with  the  lustrous  black  hair  which 
crowned  it,  and  her  large  dark  eyes,  now  widening 
still  more  at  the  sight  of  Rose  in  the  embrace  of  a 
stranger.  But  Philip's  look  was  only  momentarily 
for  her,  it  was  at  once  focussed  upon  the  bundle  of  soft, 
woolly  blankets  that  she  bore  and  from  an  opening 
in  which  appeared  the  tip  of  a  tiny  nose.  In  three 
leaps  he  was  up  the  stairs  and,  without  so  much  as 
an  "if  you  please,"  took  the  bundle  from  the  bearer's 
uncertain  arms,  and  cuddled  his  little  niece  close, 
despite  her  wails  of  protest. 

"Well,"  laughed  Rose,  from  the  foot  of  the  stairs, 
"now  that  you  have  greeted  one  of  my  children, 
suppose  you  do  the  same  for  the  other — although 
not  necessarily  in  the  same  manner,  Philip.  Before 
you  stands  our  little  Camille." 

A  sudden  strange  embarrassment  took  possession 
of  him.  Even  after  all  that  Rose  had  written  concern- 
ing the  girl  she  had  seemed  rather  unreal,  and  he  had 
quickly  forgotten  her  existence.  Now  she  was  close 
beside  him,  and  to  his  uncertainty  as  to  how  he 
should  greet  her  was  added  a  sense  of  disappoint- 
ment. How  could  his  sister  have  called  either  lovely 
or  fascinating  this  sad-faced  pallid,  girl  with  her 


CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION    25 

startling  eyes?  Of  course  he  could  not  know  that  she 
was  still  filled  with  an  inner  shrinking  produced  by 
the  multitude  of  strange  and  startling  experiences 
which  she  had  gone  through  during  the  fortnight,  now 
blessedly  passed.  A  new  terror,  too,  had  entered  her 
heart.  Instinct  told  her  that  this  was  Doctor  Philip 
— the  brother  of  whom  her  Smiles  had  spoken  so 
often,  and  in  such  glowing  terms.  Canaille  caught 
her  breath  and  shrank  back  a  little. 

Philip,  who  rather  prided  himself  upon  being  a 
man  of  the  world  with  unshaken  poise,  was  thor- 
oughly disgusted  to  find  himself  almost  panic-stricken. 
His  impression  of  her  was  distinctly  unfavorable, 
but  he  must  of  course  dissemble  it.  Furthermore, 
she  probably  did  not  understand  English  and  he 
knew  that  his  French  was  atrocious.  But  he  must 
say  something — Rose  was  expectantly  waiting. 

"Je  suis  charmant  de  faire  votre  connaissance, 
mademoiselle" — he  stammered,  and  instantly  real- 
ized that  he  had  used  the  wrong  verb  form  and  de- 
clared that  he  was  "charming"  instead  of  "charmed." 
A  quick  flush  covered  his  face  and  it  deepened  with 
Rose's  peal  of  merry  laughter.  At  that  moment  he 
found  himself  cordially  detesting  the  girl  whose 
lips  remained  so  serious,  but  whose  eyes  seemed  to 
smile,  pityingly. 

"Of  course  you  are  charming,"  cried  his  sister. 
"But  it  isn't  considered  good  form  to  declare  it  so 
openly.  Besides,  a  pretty  French  speech  wasn't  in 
the  least  necessary.  Camille  understands  and  speaks 
English  perfectly." 


26 SMILING  PASS 

"How  do  you  do,  Dr.  Bentley?"  inquired  the  girl 
in  confirmation. 

The  joke  on  himself  helped  to  overcome  Philip's 
|  embarrassment  and  he  held  out  his  hand,  exclaiming, 
i  "Well,  that  was  one — no,  two — on  me.  Honestly, 
I'm  not  always  such  a  fool  as  that.  I  promise  never 
to  do  it  again — speak  French,  I  mean." 

"Mais,  oui.  Please  do.  I  am  sure  that  you  speak 
it  better  than  I  English,"  Camille  answered  in  her 
somewhat  slow  but  correct^phraseology. 

Still  she  did  not  smile,  and  Philip  thought,  "Hope- 
less. Poor  little  kid,  I  guess  I  should  be  sorry  for 
her."  Aloud  he  said,  "And  now  I  must  see  the  least 
important  member  of  the  family  without  further 
delay.  Where's  Don,  and  how  is  he?  " 

"In  the  study  upstairs.  Come  along,  he's  dying 
to  see  you.  Poor  man,  the  trip  was  terribly  hard  on 
him  and  he's  in  rather  bad  shape."  Turning  to  Cam- 
ille Rose  remarked,  "The  baby  carriage  is  in  the 
vestibule.  Don't  keep  Junie  out  too  long,  dear. 
The  March  wind  is  pretty  raw. " 

Lowering  her  voice  she  continued,  "  Phil,  you  must 
lend  your  influence  to  putting  my  plan  across  by  ap- 
pearing in  the  role  of  family  physician.  He  talks  of 
getting  back  into  practice  in  spite  of  his  handicap — 
office  consultation,  of  course.  But  he  mustn't  even 
think  of  such  a  thing.  Between  us  we've  got  to  make 
him  take  absolutely  essential  rest,  away  from  every 
distraction,  and  I  have  a  perfect  plan." 

As  they  slowly  mounted  the  remaining  stairs  she 


CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION    27 

briefly  outlined  it  in  an  undertone,  and,  although 
he  nodded  agreement,  he  could  not  help  saying, 
somewhat  rebelliously,  "I  suppose  that  it  is  the 
wisest  thing  to  do,  but — darn  it  all — I  wanted  to  have 
you  here  with  me.  Still,  his  recovery  comes  first". 

"Of  course,"  she  answered,  simply,  as  she  pushed 
open  the  door. 

Philip  stepped  into  the  study,  to  pause  momen- 
tarily. For  his  old  chum,  the  powerful  athlete  of  a 
decade  before,  was  pitiably  seated  amid  many  cush- 
ions in  a  big  chair — a  helpless  cripple!  He  seemed 
not  to  have  heard  their  entrance,  and  was  nervously 
drumming  with  his  big  capable  fingers  on  the  chair 
arm,  while  his  head  was  turned  away  so  that  he 
might  look  out  of  the  window  at  the  bare  and  shiv- 
ering trees.  The  old  strength  and  crude  attractive- 
ness still  remained  in  his  face,  in  spite  of  the  new 
lines  graven  about  the  corners  of  mouth  and  eyes 
by  the  invisible  knife  of  pain.  "  If  anything,  though," 
thought  Philip,  "they  add  distinction,  like  the  fur- 
rows in  Lincoln's  face,  and  so  do  the  increasingly 
large  patches  of  silvery  hair  over  his  temples,  the 
poor  devil." 

Striding  forward  with  extended  hand,  he  called 
out  the  brotherly  abuse,  "Hello,  you  good-for-noth- 
ing, sham  invalid." 

Donald  turned  at  the  words,  and  a  delightful 
smile  momentarily  wiped  away  every  trace  of  phy- 
sical distress  and  mental  depression  as  his  own  pow- 
erful hand  shot  out  to  grasp  that  of  the  other. 


28  SMILING  PASS 

For  an  hour  or  more  the  three  mutual  lovers  chatted 
together,  recounting  the  news  of  home  and  abroad. 
At  length  Philip  said,  "By  the  way,  Don — and  Rose, 
too,  on  second  thoughts — I've  recently  become 
fairly  well  acquainted  with  a  chap  who  wants  to 
meet  you  both,  you  for  your  fame  as  a  surgeon — 
which  is  all  tommyrot,  of  course, — and  you  .  .  ." 
he  turned  to  his  sister  and  finished  the  sentence  by 
saying,  "Well,  I'll  let  you  guess." 

"Because  he  has  fallen  desperately  in  love  with 
the  transcendent  beauty  of  my  photograph,  of  course," 
she  laughed. 

"There,  now!  Somebody  must  have  told  you!" 
He  spoke  in  mock  disgust,  but  she  caught  a  some- 
what startled  look  in  his  eyes  and  wondered  at  it. 
"Supposing  I  should  agree  that  he  had,  at  least, 
fallen  in  love  with  the  smile  hidden  in  your  picture, 
what  would  you  say  then,  young  lady?  " 

"That  I  didn't  believe  you,  or  else  that  he  must 
be  a  particularly  callow,  sentimental  and  utterly 
foolish  youth,"  she  answered,  promptly. 

"All  right;  in  that  case  I'll  merely  think  it,  because 
I  do  not  wish  to  be  disbelieved  and  he  is  quite  the 
antithesis  of  'callow  et  als.'  He's  actually  the  most 
purposeful,  reserved,  somberest  and  lack-humorest 
man  I  ever  met — a  doctor  finishing  his  education 
as  interne  at  the  city  Hospital." 

"Sounds  highly  interesting,"  remarked  Donald, 
dryly. 

"Doesn't  it?    But  he  is.    I  like  him  personally — 


CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION    29 

attraction  of  opposites,  I  suppose — and  enjoy  study- 
ing him  as  a  type.  I'm  not  joking,  though.  He  is  a 
worshipper  at  your  medical  shrine,  and  wishes  that 
an  opportunity  might  be  made  for  him  to  study 
certain  classes  of  cranial  operations  under  you." 

"Flattered.   Why  don't  you  bring  him  here?" 

"I  will.  And  that  reminds  me.  There's  another 
who  has  asked  me  to  perform  a  similar  office  in  her 
behalf — for  it's  a  she  this  time,  and  I'll  wager  you'd 
never  guess  who. " 

"Marion  Treville?"  suggested  the  other  in  a  tone 
which  made  Rose  glance  up  quickly.  Did  the  old 
wound  still  rankle,  after  all? 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!  What's  got  into  you  people 
to-day?  Your  guess  was  not  right,  but  it  was  amaz- 
ingly warm,  Don.  It  is  the  younger  sister  of  your 
one-time  fiancee — Margaret  Treville." 

"Peggy?  Why  of  course  I  should  like  to  see  her. 
The  last  time  I  did,  she  was  a  typical  sweet,  young 
college  girl  and  I  was  decidedly  fond  of  her.  By  all 
means  ask  her  to  call.  What  is  she  like  now?  " 

"Still  a  'sweet  young  thing';  pretty  enough,  but 
merely  a  society  butterfly  with  sentimental  ideas 
on  social  service  and  community  work.  Strictly  be- 
tween ourselves,  she  makes  me  horribly  tired,  but 
her  childish  chatter  may  amuse  you.  I'll  pass  along 
your  invitation." 

At  that  point  in  the  conversation  the  baby,  return- 
ing in  Camille's  arms,  caused  a  diversion  which  ended 
in  Philip's  declaring  that  he  simply  must  take  his 


30 SMILING  PASS 

departure  in  order  to  get  the  grime  of  travel  from 
his  person.  As  he  arose  he  said,  almost  casually, 
"Well,  old  chap,  I  dislike  the  idea  of  giving  you  two 
up  again,  even  for  a  little  while,  but  you  have  been 
in  the  harness  so  long  that  you've  certainly  earned 
a  real  rest.  And  it's  obvious  that  you,  at  least,"  he 
nodded  towards  Donald,  "need  it,  literally  speaking 
to  'put  you  on  your  feet  again.'  Boston's  no  place 
for  you  for  a  while  and,  since  it  has  managed  to  do 
without  you  for  four  years,  I  guess  that  it  can  for  a 
few  months  longer,  under  the  circumstances.  There- 
fore relegating  to  myself  the  office  of  family  physi- 
cian .  .  .  . " 

"Bah!  Do  you  think  that  I  require  the  services 
of  a  baby  doctor,  yet — or  that  I  would  have  you 
under  any  conditions?  "  broke  in  Donald. 

But  the  other  continued  calmly,  "  .  .  .  .  I  order 
— I  had  intended  to  say,  'suggest' — a  complete 
change  for  you  in  some  quiet  spot  where  there  is  good 
air,  and  plenty  of  it.  I  have  it!  Why  don't  you  and 
Smiles  make  tracks  for  the  Cumberlands  where  you 
can  gather  up  a  nice  lot  of  loose  ozone  and  make  a 
new  start  from  your  old  starting-together  point? 
You  may  leave  the  baby  with  me." 

"The  idea!"  cried  Rose,  as  she  held  her  little 
daughter  close  up  under  her  neck,  where  she  wiggled 
ecstatically.  "Just  the  same,  the  idea  isn't  so  bad 
in  the  main,  even  if  it  is  yours,  Phil."  Her  expres- 
sive eyes  flashed  him  a  message  of  mischievous 
appreciation.  "Oh,  Don,  wouldn't  it  be  wonderful? 


CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION    31 

A  few  months'  rest  in  the  perfect  peace  of  those 
high  hills  is  exactly  what  you  do  need — don't  you 
remember  how  you  used  to  say  that  you  came  there 
periodically  to  draw  a  new  supply  of  health  from 
Mother  Nature's  never-failing  breasts?  And,  oh, 
how  I  have  been  longing  for  a  sight  of  my  childhood's 
land  and  our  honeymoon  home.  Yes,  Philip's  plan 
is  perfect." 

"Hmmm.    I  admit  that  it  has  certain  sentiment- 
ally   attractive    features,"    began    Donald.       "But 
» 

"  'But  me  no  buts,'  "  Philip  interrupted.  "I  told 
you  that  I  was  giving  orders,  not  making  a  sugges- 
tion, and  have  I  ever  made  a  mistake  in  a  prescrip- 
tion? No,  never — or  hardly  ever.  Well,  I'll  run  in 
later;  to  dinner  if  I'm  invited.  Thanks.  So  long,  all." 
His  prescribed  task  performed  he  strode  quickly 
from  the  room. 

"Well,  dear?"  inquired  Rose  with  a  note  of  ap- 
peal in  her  voice,  as  soon  as  Camille  had  also  de- 
parted, leaving  the  baby  in  its  mother's  arms. 

"I  won't  pretend  that  I  do  not  know  what  you 
mean.  For  your  sake  I  heartily  wish  that  we  might 
carry  out  your  conspiritous  plan — oh,  I  saw  the  look 
which  passed  between  you  and  Phil,  my  child — , 
although  personally  I'll  come  along  just  as  fast  here 
in  Boston  as  I  would  in  the  mountains.  All  I  need  is 
a  change,  and  this  is  a  wonderful  one,  thank  God." 

"But  ..."  began  his  wife,  argumentatively. 

"That's  just  it.      Although  Philip  may  dismiss 


32  SMILING  PASS 

the  matter  airily,  there  really  is  a  'but/  and  a  big 
one.  I  can't  afford  to  quit  and  lie  down  merely  be- 
cause I'm  temporarily  a  bit  crippled.  There  is  a  place, 
even  for  a  legless  man,  and  I've  got  to  fill  it." 

"Of  course,  Don.  I  wouldn't  suggest  anything  else 
— except  that  you  are  not  going  to  be  'legless'  long. 
But  the  sooner  you  fully  recover  the  better  work 
you'll  be  able  to  do,  and  a  six  months'  vacation 
among  the  everlasting  hills!  Philip  was  right.  We 
have  earned  it,  both  of  us,  and  you  do  need  it." 

"Perhaps  I  really  do,"  he  answered,  slowly.  "And 
I  wish  we  might  both  take  it.  But  when  the  devil 
drives  ..." 

Rose  laughed.  "Bless  your  dear  heart,  nothing 
drives,  except  your  adorable,  but  temporarily  foolish, 
mania  for  service.  Have  I  got  to  turn  your  own 
guns  on  you  and  remind  you  of  what  you  once  wrote 
in  a  letter  to  little  Rose,  years  ago — that  nurses  and 
doctors  are  soldiers  and  need  their  periods  of  rest  in 
order  to  keep  themselves  fit  for  the  everlasting  battle 
against  disease?  Can  you  deny  that  you  did  write 
it,  or  that  it's  true?" 

"No." 

His  response  came  with  painful  slowness,  and  he 
kept  his  eyes  averted,  while  the  expression  which 
crept  into  them  was  one  of  such  deep  trouble  that 
Rose  felt  a  sudden  clutch  of  fear  at  her  heart.  She 
knew  him  so  intimately  that  every  shadow  upon  his 
face  carried  a  distinct  message  whose  meaning  she 
could  more  than  half  divine. 


CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION    33 

"No,"  he  repeated.  "I  can't  deny  it,  but  when  I 
say  that  I  must  get  to  work  immediately  it  isn't  a 
matter  of  desire  to  serve  so  much  as  of  plain  dollars 
and  cents,  Rose." 

"Donald!  Why,  I  never  knew  you  to  regard  money 
as  a  goal  before.  It  isn't  like  you.  Of  course  I  know 
that  we  are  not  actually  rich,  by  any  means,  but 
we've  plenty." 

"We  haven't  any — practically  speaking,  Rose," 
he  answered  in  a  low,  distressed  voice. 

"Why,  Don!"  She  tried  to  laugh.  "How  absurd. 
Of  course  you  have  given  a  good  deal  to  different 
war  charities — you  know  that  I  wanted  you  to  do 

it,  and  am  proud  of  you  for  doing  it — ,  but  surely 
)j 

For  a  moment  he  did  not  respond  to  her  implied 
question.  Then  he  said,  "I  haven't  played  fair, 
Rose.  I've  been  keeping  something  from  you,  with 
the  half-hope  that  I  might  never  have  to  tell  you 
the  truth." 

"What  is  it,  dear?  Please  tell  me  now,"  his  wife 
spoke  quietly.  "Somehow  I've  felt  for  more  than  a 
year  that  you  had  some  trouble  on  your  mind  which 
had  nothing  to  do  with  your  sickness,  and  the  knowl- 
edge has  hurt  a  little,  although  of  course  I  could  not 
ask  you  to  tell  me.  But  you're  right;  you  haven't 
played  quite  fair — you  haven't  treated  me  as  truly 
your  helpmate.  I  want  always  to  share  your  troubles, 
for  don't  you  know  that  spiritual  as  well  as  physical 
burdens  become  lighter  when  they  are  divided?  " 


34  SMILING  PASS 

"Yes,  I  know.  But  ...  it  was  not  altogether 
that  I  wanted  to  spare  you  pain,  and  of  course  I 
knew  that  the  money  itself  meant  no  more  to  you 
than  to  me — at  least  not  when  we  were  both  well  and 
strong,  and  before  Junie  came.  But  my  secret  invol- 
ved .  .  .  another." 

Again  the  painful  little  clutch  at  her  heart. 

"I  .  .  .1  told  you  at  the  time  of  father's  death 
that  his  estate  had  dwindled  to  nothing  .  .  .  that 
he  had  lost  his  comfortable  fortune  in  an  unsuccess- 
ful war  venture." 

"I  know.  I  was  sorry  on  Ethel's  account,  not  on 
my  own.  Truly  I  meant  it,  Don." 

"Of  course.  But  don't  you  see,  now?  When  he 
wrote  of  his  difficulties,  I  loaned  him  almost  every- 
thing that  I — that  we  had  safely  invested,  in  the 
hope — vain,  as  it  proved — that  it  would  pull  him 
through.  Father  didn't  simply  die.  The  blow  killed 
him." 

"Oh,  my  dearest.   Poor,  poor  father  MacDonald!" 

The  sudden  tears  in  his  wife's  eyes,  and  the  tender 
caress  of  her  arms  about  his  neck  were  rather  for 
the  man  who  had  gone  than  for  him.  Knowing  it, 
Donald's  heart  went  out  to  her  the  more  and  for  a 
moment,  full  of  silent  and  sympathetic  understand- 
ing, he  held  her  close. 

"You  did  the  right — the  only — thing,  dear  heart. 
Surely  you  couldn't  have  thought  that  I  would 
blame  you!" 

Rose's  voice  held  a  suggestion  of  reproach  and  he 


CONSPIRACY  AND  A  CONFESSION    35 

hastened  to  answer,  "No.  It  was  not  that,  but  I 
didn't  like  to  tell  you,  on  his  account." 

"I  understand.  See,  I  forgive  you  your  little  sin 
of  omission."  Her  pardon  took  the  form  of  a  lin- 
gering kiss.  "I'm  terribly  sorry  for  father — what  a 
shame  that  he  had  to  endure  that  suffering  at  a 
time  of  life  when  the  soul  should  be  serene  and 
gaining  strength  for  its  long  journey!  But  for  us  it 
doesn't  matter,  a  particle.  We  have  each  other  and 
you  are  going  to  have  your  health  again.  I  know  it, 
somehow.  Others  need  it,  as  well  as  you  yourself, 
and  what  is  right  and  we  work  and  wish  for  hard 
enough,  God  will  grant.  You  believe  it,  don't  you, 
Don?" 

He  nodded,  none  too  certainly.  For  a  moment 
Rose  looked  at  him  with  a  troubled,  wistful  expres- 
sion on  her  countenance.  Then  it  brightened  a  little 
as  she  went  on  softly,  "And  truly  there  is  just  a 
little  bit  of  happiness  mixed  with  my  sorrow.  Can 
you  guess  why?" 

He  shook  his  head,  wonderingly. 

"We've  been  everything  to  each  other  and  com- 
rades in  a  great  many  different  kinds  of  struggles, 
but  we  have  never  borne  poverty  together  even  for 
a  little  while." 

"There's  an  old  saying  that  when  it  comes  in  at 
the  door  love  flies  out  at  .  .  . " 

Her  hand  pressed  against  his  lips,  checked  the 
utterance  of  the  conclusion  and  she  cried,  "How 
dare  you  even  so  much  as  repeat  it?  Come  now, 


36 SMILING  PASS 

play  fair,  and  tell  me  just  how  little  we  really  have. 
Not  that  it  matters  a  single  bit.  Don't  you  see  that 
now  there  is  a  double  reason  for  your  taking  the  time 
to  get  wholly  well,  before  we  begin  the  fight  upward 
again?  And  where  on  earth  could  we  live  on  so  little 
as  in  my  old  home,  which  we  must  have  kept  for  just 
this  very  event?" 

"As  to  your  first  question,  between  two  and  three 
thousand  dollars,  and  what  is  that,  nowadays?  Con- 
cerning your  second,  almost  thou  dost  persuade  me 
to  be  a  Cumberlander,  for  a  little  while.  Honestly, 
the  peace  and  quiet  of  the  hills  does  have  an  almost 
irresistible  appeal  to  my  spirit  just  now.  It  might 
turn  the  trick,  after  all." 

"It  would.  It  will!"  she  said  confidently.  "We'll 
go,  Don;  just  as  soon  as  we  can  make  the  ar- 
rangements. I'll  write  to  Judd  to-night  and  tell  him 
to  put  our  house  in  order  for  us.  Once  he  promised 
to  do  anything  which  I  asked,  don't  you  remember?  " 
she  inquired  teasingly. 

"Oh,  but  he  was  your  confessed  lover,  then." 

"And  do  you  mean  to  insinuate  that  he  is  not 
still,  even  if  he  does  happen  to  be  married?  Aren't 
you  both?  "  Her  question  required  no  verbal  answer. 

The  raucous  screech  from  the  horn  of  a  passing 
automobile  broke  the  ensuing  silence,  and  the  man, 
whose  nerves  were  badly  on  edge,  shuddered  slightly. 

"The  peace  of  the  hills,"  he  whispered. 


CHAPTER  IV 

TWO   OFFERS 

IT  chanced  that,  only  a  few  days  after  the  Mac- 
Donalds'  return  home,  Philip  met  Dr.  Hunter  cros- 
sing the  Public  Gardens  and — suddenly  remember- 
ing his  promise — steered  him  down  Beacon  Street 
to  the  Thayers'  residence  to  introduce  him  to  Donald. 
Then  he  departed  to  keep  a  professional  appoint- 
ment, satisfied  that  he  had  done  well,  for  Donald 
looked  lonely;  he  had  only  Camille  for  company, 
and  the  strange  Belgian  girl  still  remained  a  negli- 
gible quantity  in  Philip's  estimation,  although,  in 
order  not  to  hurt  his  sister's  feelings,  he  had  early 
assumed  a  semi-paternal  attitude  towards  the  girl, 
and  taught  her  to  call  him  "Uncle  Philip." 

Back  in  the  study,  left  alone  by  the  silent  with- 
drawal of  Camille,  the  two  men  almost  immediately 
found  themselves  mutually  attracted  in  a  quiet, 
reserved  way.  One  was  city  bred,  of  as  good  lineage 
as  any  in  the  city  where  family  counts  so  strongly, 
and  for  several  years  recognized  as  a  leader  in  his 
profession;  the  other  was  of  an  origin  which  he  rather 
studiously  refrained  from  mentioning,  the  product 
of  a  struggle  against  poverty  and — at  thirty-six — 
still  fighting  doggedly  onward  towards  the  first  goal 
37 


38 SMILING  PASS 

in  a  thorough  medical  education.  Yet  they  had  many 
mutual  interests,  besides  possessing  in  common 
unusual  physical  strength  and  in  that  dynamic  will 
which  either  violently  repels  or  strongly  attracts 
its  like.  In  the  case  of  the  two  physicians,  it  was  the 
latter. 

Almost  without  preface  Dr.  Hunter  made  a 
straightforward  declaration  of  his  purpose  in  seek- 
ing the  interview  upon  having  learned  that  Dr. 
MacDonald  was  his  friend's  brother-in-law.  He 
tersely  outlined  his  training  and,  after  announc- 
ing his  desire  to  specialize  in  surgery,  added,  "If 
you  intend  to  resume  your  surgical  practice — as 
soon  as  your  temporary  disability  has  passed,  of 
course — there  is  nothing  in  the  world  that  I  would 
like  so  much  to  do  as  have  an  opportunity  to  join  a 
clinic  and  study  your  methods,  if  it  is  possible.  Of 
course  I  know  that  it  is  asking  a  great  deal  but  .  .  . 
well,  when  I  want  a  thing  badly  it  is  my  nature  to 
go  after  it  without  any  palavering.  I  can't  do  any 
worse  than  fail." 

Donald  laughed.  The  blunt  declaration  both 
amused  and  mildly  flattered  him;  but  he  felt  con- 
strained to  tell  his  visitor  that  what  the  future  held 
was  problematical  and,  furthermore,  that  he  was 
planning  to  spend  the  whole  summer,  at  least,  resting 
in  the  Cumberland  mountains. 

Just  as  he  made  this  announcement  Rose  appeared 
in  the  study  doorway,  with  Smiles  junior  in  her  arms, 
both  clad  in  out-of-door  apparel.  The  caller  instantly 


TWO  OFFERS 39 

arose  and  his  direct,  piercing  gaze  was  focused  upon 
what  he  felt  was  the  most  appealing  picture  of  ra- 
diant young  motherhood  that  he  had  ever  seen,  for 
the  woman's  lovely  face — now  in  the  full  bloom  of 
early  maturity — was  all  aglow  from  the  buffetings 
of  the  March  breezes,  and  her  eyes  sparkled  with 
the  light  of  perfect  health  and  perfect  love.  Her 
happy  smile  changed  to  one  a  trifle  more  formal 
as  she  beheld  the  unknown  visitor  and,  under  his 
steady  regard — which  held  a  suggestion  of  frank 
admiration — the  color  in  her  cheeks  deepened  slightly. 

Donald  noticed  both  the  look  and  the  added  flush. 
With  mild  amusement  his  memory  harked  back  to 
Philip's  assertion  that  Dr.  Hunter  had  already 
fallen  in  love  with  his  wife's  pictured  smile,  and  he 
found  himself  tolerantly  thinking,  "I  don't  blame 
him,  if  it  is  true.  What  red-blooded  man  would  not?" 

To  his  formal  introduction  he  added  the  explana- 
tory comment,  "Dr.  Hunter  has  just  been  telling  me 
that  he  has  an  idea  that  he  would  like  to  become  a 
co-laborer  with  us  some  day,  Rose." 

Donald  never  mentioned  himself  in  the  singular 
when  speaking  of  his  work.  Rose  was  always  in- 
cluded. 

"That  is  not  an  absolutely  accurate  statement, 
Mrs.  MacDonald,"  declared  the  other.  "I  am  sure 
that  I  should,  but,  on  the  other  hand,  I  don't  aspire 
at  present  to  a  position  other  than  that  of  humble 
student.  In  spite  of  my  years  I  am  still  serving  my 
novitiate." 


40 SMILING  PASS 

Rose  laughed  blithely.  "  My,  how  aged  you  sound, 
Dr.  Hunter.  Yet  I  am  sure  that  you  are  not  as  old 
as  my  doctor,  and  he  is  still  young." 

"Well,  hardly,"  her  husband  broke  in,  and  the 
note  of  veiled  bitterness  sounded  in  his  deep  voice. 

There  were  counter  denials  and  commonplace 
remarks  passed  for  a  few  moments.  Then  Rose  said, 
"I'll  tell  you  something  in  confidence,  Dr.  Hunter. 
Donald  wouldn't  have  mentioned  the  possibility  of 
your  studying  with  him  if  he  hadn't  already  formed 
a  favorable  impression  of  you,  and  he  isn't  a  man 
in  the  least  given  to  hasty  conclusions — or  one  who 
is  often  wrong  in  his  estimate  of  people.  Really,  you 
should  be  quite  nattered." 

Their  caller  bowed,  ever  so  slightly,  but  his  expres- 
sion did  not  change,  and  Rose's  own  smile  faded. 
What  a  strange  man  he  was! 

"He  has  just  told  me  that  you  are  planning  to 
spend  the  summer  in  a  rather  remote  part  of  the 
Southern  Highlands,"  he  remarked.  "I  was  almost 
on  the  point  of  warning  you  that  you  would  find  life 
pretty  primitive  down  there,  but  I  recall  now  having 
heard  that  you  were  raised  in  the  Cumberlands, 
Mrs.  MacDonald." 

"Yes.  I  was  for  fifteen  years  a  child  of  the  hills. 
I  know  and  love  them  and  the  strange  people  who 
dwell  within  them,  as  well.  And  you?  You  seemed 
about  to  speak  as  one  having  authority." 

"I  grew  up  in  Tennessee,  and  am  fairly  well  ac- 
quainted with  its  mountaineers.  The  manner  of  life  is 


TWO  OFFERS 41 

about  the  same  there  as  in  your  section,"  Dr.  Hun- 
ter replied. 

"I  suppose  so.  Like  most  mountain  people  I  knew 
only  the  little  section  of  terrain — you  see  I've  been 
living  in  France — formed  by  my  own  private  cluster 
of  hills,  but  I  know  that  the  same  conditions  exist 
throughout  the  whole  highland  area  of  Kentucky, 
West  Virginia,  Virginia,  North  Carolina  and  Tennes- 
see varying  only  in  degree  of  isolation  from  the  outside 
world.  Life  is  desperately  primitive  and  hard  there, 
isn't  it?  But  its  pathos  has  a  strong  appeal  for  me." 

"I  see.  Well,  since  you  know  the  facts,  you  can't 
be  influenced  by  the  romantic  rot  which  some  novel- 
ists write  about  it,  according  to  what  I  hear — I 
never  read  fiction  myself." 

"Don't  you?  Oh,  I  do!  They  may  overdraw  the 
romance  for  the  story's  sake,  but  it  exists.  Why,  the 
very  idea  that  there  can  be  a  race  of  almost  five 
million  people  enmeshed  and  lost  among  those  in- 
accessible mountains,  and  there  living  the  life  of  two 
hundred  years  ago  to-day,  is  romantic,"  she  cried  and 
her  husband  joined  in  with,  "I  thought  so  when  I 
first  stumbled  upon  it.  I  doubt  if  one  could  go  from 
Boston  to  any  other  place  in  the  whole  United  States 
and  find  such  a  complete,  unimaginable  contrast." 

"I  reckon  that's  true."   The  Southerner  spoke. 

"It  certainly  must  be,"  affirmed  Rose  and  con- 
tinued eagerly,  "I  long  for  that  utter  change  for  a 
while.  Of  course  we  are  going  back  primarily  to 
rest  a  little  from  our  labors  and  to  give  the  moun- 


42 SMILING  PASS 

tains  a  chance  to  restore  health  to  the  doctor — • 
they'll  do  it,  won't  they?"  she  interpolated  and  the 
visitor  nodded  seriously.  "But  I  have  also  a  pleas- 
ant dream  of  doing  something  to  make  life  just  a 
wee  bit  less  hard  for  the  small  circle  of  my  oldtime 
neighbors.  When  I  was  a  girl  and  first  became  in- 
spired, by  Dr.  MacDonald,  with  the  idea  that  I 
might  some  day  become  a  nurse  especially  trained 
to  take  care  of  babies  I  made  a  little  vow  that  I 
would  sometime  return  home  and  help  the  children 
of  the  hills.  Now  I  can  do  it." 

Her  husband  grinned  and  groaned.  "I  knew  that 
there  was  a  catch  in  it,  somewhere,  and  have  sus- 
pected what  was  coming.  She's  been  talking  about 
a  second  honeymoon — we  spent  our  first  one  there 
— but  what  will  happen  is  that  she'll  leave  me  alone, 
chairbound  on  the  sidelines,  while  she  works  her- 
self to  death." 

"Indeed,  I  shan't.  I'll  bring  the  little  children  to 
you,  for  healing."  Rose's  voice  took  on  the  particu- 
larly gentle  tone  which  she  always  used  in  speaking 
of,  or  with,  little  ones,  and  her  eyes  glowed  with 
loving  light. 

The  moment  of  silence  which  followed  was  broken 
by  Dr.  Hunter's  slow  deliberate  speech. 

"I  envy  you.  There's  certainly  tremendous  need 
there — alike  for  medical  aid  and  someone  to  teach 
the  simplest  fundamental  rules  of  hygiene.  We 
can't  expect  much  from  the  mountaineer  so  long  as 
trachoma,  hook-worm  and  typhoid  continue  to 


TWO  OFFERS 43 

scourge  them — as  is  bound  to  be  the  case  while  they 
live  in  their  present  manner.  I  ...  I  happen  to 
have  had  a  dream  somewhat  similar  to  yours,  Mrs. 
MacDonald.  You  see,  I,  too,  know  the  need  and 
.  .  .  well,  my  tastes  are  still  simple  and  the  prac- 
tice of  medicine  for  money,  merely,  has  no  particular 
appeal  to  me." 

"Oh,  do  you  really  mean  that  you  have  thought 
of  being  a  missionary  of  health  in  our  mountains?" 
demanded  Rose  with  eager  approval  in  her  tone. 

He  nodded  and  replied,  "Perhaps  .  .  .  some- 
thing like  that,  some  day." 

"Good  for  you!"  She  had  given  the  baby  to  her 
husband  to  hold  while  she  removed  her  wraps,  and 
now  she  clapped  her  hands  together,  delightedly. 

"If  only  a  lot  more  might  know  the  crying  need 
and  hear  the  call,  a  splendid  and  enduring  work  could 
be  done  there.  It  seems  both  pitiful  and  criminal 
that  a  race  of  unmixed  blood  which  is,  next  to  the 
Indians,  the  most  truly  American,  should  perish  as 
they  are  perishing  with  almost  nobody  caring  enough 
to  help  them  help  themselves.  It's  rather  a  coinci- 
dence that  we  two,  I  mean  three,  feeling  the  same 
about  it,  should  have  met  like  this,  isn't  it? " 

He  nodded  slowly,  and  then  turned  towards  Don- 
ald who  was,  with  typical  abruptness,  making  the 
inquiry,  "When  does  your  present  term  as  interne 
at  the  City  Hospital  end?" 

"In  July." 

"Hmmm.    Of  course  I  have  only  your  own  word 


44  SMILING  PASS 

and  Phil's  excellent  recommendation  as  to  your 
qualifications  and  don't  know  a  thing  else  about  you,' 
but  I'm  willing  to  take  a  chance  and  make  this  sug- 
gestion, which  may  give  you  an  opportunity  to  prac- 
tice what  you  preach.  If  I'm  to  be  set  to  work  again 
against  my  wishes  .  .  ."he  paused  and  smiled 
meaningly  at  his  wife  .  .  .  "I'll  need  help  to  per- 
form even  one  man's  work.  Why  don't  you  plan  to 
come  down  for  a  few  weeks  and  see  whether  or  not 
we  can  get  along  together?  It  will  be  a  semi-vaca- 
tion, and  I  grant  you  the  right  to  leave  just  as  I  re- 
tain the  right  to  'fire  at  will.'  Of  course  I'm  not 
offering  you  a  job — I  couldn't  anyway  at  present, 
for  the  war  has  left  us  as  poor  as  the  proverbial 
church  mouse,  but  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  Donald.  What  a  splendid  suggestion!" 
broke  in  his  wife.  "If  we  three  could  only  manage 
to  clean  up  one  little  section  we  would  have  done 
something  worthwhile  for  my  beloved  hills.  If  the 
race  can  be  restored,  physically,  the  rest  will  follow. 
Indeed,  we  might  have  a  little  school  for  the  neigh- 
bors, too — that  is,  if  the  county  one  continues  to  be 
as  spasmodic  as  it  used  hi  my  schoolgirl  days." 

"Now  you're  letting  your  wonderful  imagination 
gallop  away  with  you,"  laughed  Donald.  "Rein  up 
a  bit,  Rose!  There  are  obstacles  ahead.  If  you're 
planning  a  real  medical  and  educational  campaign, 
there  is  red  tape  galore  to  be  cleared  away.  We 
couldn't  practice  regularly  without  being  registered, 
and  that  state  and  Massachusetts  haven't  recipro- 
cal relations." 


TWO  OFFERS  45 

"There,  somebody  is  always  taking  the  joy  out 
of  life!"  quoted  his  wife  with  a  little  grimace. 

"I  might  take  the  state  examination,  and  you  act 
merely  in  the  capacity  of  advisor,"  came  in  Dr. 
Hunter's  unemotional  voice. 

"Then  the  suggestion  appeals  to  you?" 

"I  shan't  attempt  to  tell  you  how  much,  sir. 
Once  I  was  decidedly  impulsive;  but  I  deliberately 
set  out  to  conquer  impulse,  and  perhaps  I've  gone 
to  the  other  extreme.  I  will  say,  'though,  that  the 
proposal  hardly  yet  seems  like  a  reality — it's  more 
like  a  dream.  Are  you  quite  sure  that  you  mean  it, 
Dr.  MacDonald?" 

There  was  a  new  light  in  the  speaker's  deepset 
eyes  which  utterly  changed  the  expression  of  his 
somber  face,  and  imparted  to  it  a  look  of  marked 
intensity. 

"I  should  not  have  made  the  suggestion  if  I  had 
not  meant  it,"  answered  Donald.  "It  will  give  us 
an  opportunity  to  become  better  acquainted  and 
besides,  I  shall  not  be  sorry  to  have  a  -whole  man 
around,  to  protect  the  womenfolk,"  he  added  signifi- 
cantly. 

"Nonsense,"  laughed  Rose.  "The  fdea  of  our 
needing  protection  in  my  own  mountains!  I'm  afraid 
that  we  can't  offer  you  the  hospitality  of  our  roof, 
if  you  come,  Doctor — you  know  what  cabins  are 
there — ,  but  we  own  land  enough  for  an  army  of  tents, 
if  you  are  willing  to  dwell  in  one." 

"Indeed,  yes.    You  say,  'if  I  come/    I  intend  to, 


46 SMILING  PASS    

Mrs.  MacDonald.  The  opportunity  is  as  welcome 
as  it  is  unexpected.  All  I  hope  is  that  I  may  make 
good  in  it." 

His  gaze  was  once  more  fixed  upon  her  face  with 
such  unwavering  intensity  that  the  suggestion  of  a 
flush  again  overspread  it.  Suddenly  he  turned  to  his 
host  with  outstretched  hand,  bowed  ever  so  slightly 
to  Rose  and  strode  out  of  the  room. 

"Queer  chap,  but  he  has  something  more  than 
ordinary  in  his  nature.  There's  nothing  halfway 
about  him.  He'll  either  go  high,  spiritually,  or  en- 
tirely to  the  devil." 

"He  made  the  same  impression  on  me,"  responded 
Rose.  "Once  or  twice  I  was  almost  afraid  of  him, 
but  I  think  that  I  shall  like  him  immensely.  He  isi 
certainly  strong,  fearless  and  frank." 

"Yes.  His  nature  belies  his  name.  There  is  noth- 
ing of  the  wary,  cover-seeking  hunter  about  him. 
He's  a  'knock-down-and-drag-out'  fighter." 

"It  seems  like  a  deliberate  act  of  Fate,  his  coming 
here  as  he  did." 

"Possibly.  I  wonder  what  Fate  has  up  her  sleeve 
in  this  instance?" 

"Why  should  she  have  anything  up  her  sleeve?" 
inquired  Rose  with  a  little  laugh. 

"Who's  got  what  up  her  sleeve?" 

Both  turned  toward  the  doorway  from  which  the 
demand  had  come  in  an  unfamiliar  voice  carrying 
a  note  both  of  propitiatory  appeal  and  girlish  eager- 
ness. Standing  in  front  of  the  trim,  black  and  white 


TWO  OFFERS  47 

clad  maid,  on  whose  face  was  a  look  of  protest,  was 
a  slender,  graceful  girl,  whose  street  costume  was  a 
model  of  stylish  perfection.  From  the  upturned  collar 
of  a  wonderful  Russian  Sable  coat  appeared  a  face 
as  dainty  and  appealing  as  a  spring  flower,  its  pink 
and  white  complexion  obviously  alike  the  priceless 
gift  of  Nature,  to  start  with,  and  kept  unblemished 
by  the  art  of  the  beauty  specialist.  Her  lips  were 
delicately  shaped,  her  eyes  were  a  sparkling  cerulean 
blue  and  the  chic  turban,  made  of  the  same  expen- 
sive fur  as  the  coat,  was  jauntily  perched  on  a  crown 
of  shimmering  golden  hair  stylishly  coiffeured  to 
conceal  forehead  and  ears. 

Rose  gave  a  little  gasp  of  pleasure,  but  her  quick 
and  friendly  smile  faded  like  a  ray  of  vanishing  sun- 
light when  Donald  exclaimed,  "Why,  Peggy  Treville!" 

For  his  own  part  the  man  had  been  doubly  startled. 
Not  only  was  the  charming  apparition  wholly  unex- 
pected, but  it  brought  back  a  rush  of  flooding  mem- 
ories. Marion  Treville  had  been  more  like  a  stately 
goddess;  this  girl  was  a  modernized  nymph,  yet  the 
resemblance  between  them  was  marked. 

"I'm  so  glad  to  hear  you  speak  in  that  tone," 
cried  the  newcomer.  "I  wouldn't  let  the  maid  an- 
nounce me,  because  I  was  a  little  afraid  ..." 

"Afraid  of  nothing!  I'm  delighted  to  see  you. 
Come  over  here  and  shake  hands  with  a  crippled 
old  man,  and  now  with  a  woman  whom  I  think  you 
have  not  previously  met,  but  of  whom  you  have 
certainly  heard.  My  wife,  Rose — Margaret  Treville." 


48 SMILING  PASS 

"I  am  so  happy  to  meet  you,  Mrs  MacDonald. 
Of  course  I  have  heard  a  great  many  wonderful  things 
about  you,  as  Donald  says,  and  as  soon  as  I  learned 
from  your  brother  Philip  that  you  had  arrived  I  de- 
termined to  call  at  once,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he 
didn't  seem  awfully  keen  on  bringing  me,  and  of 
...  of  what  happened  three  years  ago."  As  she 
spoke  the  last  words  her  pleasant,  well-trained  voice 
took  on  a  suggestion  of  distress,  which  was  either 
real  or  excellently  simulated. 

"Good  Lord,  why  should  that  have  kept  you 
away?"  demanded  Donald,  with  a  laugh.  "The 
dead  past  has  long  since  buried  its  dead,  and  besides, 
Marion  really  did  me  a  far  greater  favor  in  throwing 
me  over  than  she  had  done  in  accepting  me.  I  have 
nothing  but  gratitude  for  her." 

Rose  thrilled  at  the  frank  declaration.  Even  though 
a  woman  may  be  utterly  sure  of  her  husband's  love 
she  is  ever  made  happy  by  a  new  avowal  of  it.  She 
thawed  out  entirely  toward  their  impulsive  caller 
and  the  banished  smile  returned,  as  Margaret  went  on, 

"I  was  simply  furious,  and  we  have  been  rather 
bad  friends  ever  since.  Poor  Marion,  she  got  what 
was  coming  to  her,  I'm  afraid,"  she  added,  lapsing 
into  the  careless  language  which  has  to-day  made  its 
unpleasant  mark  upon  every  stratum  of  society. 
"To  tell  the  truth,  I  used  to  be  secretly  and  desper- 
ately enamored  of  Donald  myself,  and  drew  some 
comfort  from  the  thought  that,  although  he  regarded 
me  merely  as  a  child,  he  would  have  to  love  me  a  little 


TWO  OFFERS  49 

as  his  sister-in-law.  Really,  it  was  losing  even  that 
consolation  prize  that  turned  me  from  the  vain 
pleasures  of  society  to  a  real  life-work." 

As  she  chattered  on,  husband  glanced  at  wife 
with  frank  amusement,  remembering  Philip's  char- 
acterization of  Margaret's  "life  work,"  and  for  some 
minutes  he  led  her  on  to  give  an  enthusiastic  de- 
scription of  her  numerous  social  service  and  com- 
munity enterprises  for  which  she  had — she  declared 
— been  prepared  by  a  postgraduate  course  at  Wel- 
lesley,  and  to  which  she  had  unequivocally  dedicated 
heart  and  soul. 

"Oh,  Mrs.  MacDonald!"  she  exclaimed  at  last. 
"Philip  tells  me  that  you  are  going  to  your  old  home 
in  the  Cumberlands  for  a  long  vacation.  Isn't  that 
romantic!  Do  you  know,  I  read  every  story  I  can 
find  that  deals  with  that  utterly  fascinating  locality, 
and  I've  wished  for  years  that  I  might  go  and  do 
settlement  work  there.  Surely  there  must  be  a  won- 
derful opportunity  for  uplift  and  social  education 
among  those  poor  mountaineers.  Do  take  me  with 
you!" 

"Bless  your  heart,  dear!"  replied  Rose,  amused 
by  her  youthful  enthusiasm.  "My  mountaineers 
are  much  more  romantic  in  books  than  in  life.  City- 
bred  as  you  are,  and  with  your  home  and  social 
interests,  you  would  never  be  able  to  endure  the 
monotony  and  manifold  unpleasantnesses  of  life 
there — you  can't  have  an  idea  of  what  it  would  mean." 

"Indeed,  I  have!   Of  course  one  has  to  make  sacri- 


50 SMILING  PASS 

fices  for  any  Cause,  and  don't  you  think  that  I'm 
ready  to  make  them?  Truly  I  am;  it's  precisely  what 
I  want  to  do,  for  I  have  been  trained  to  serve.  Isn't 
there  a  chance  for  service  in  your  mountains?" 

"A  thousand  chances.  But.  .  .  well,  we'll  see. 
Perhaps  I  can  invite  you  down  there  for  a  little 
while  sometime,  although  now  there  wouldn't  be 
even  a  place  for  you  to  lay  your  golden  head.  Our 
little  cabin  is  far  better  than  most — 'grandpappy' 
modernized  it  with  a  window  and  an  addition — but 
it  has  only  two  of  the  tiniest  bedrooms  imaginable, 
and  we  three,  with  Camille,  whom  you  have  not  yet 
met,  will  fill  them  to  overflowing." 

"But  then  I  could  live  in  a  tent.  I  used  to  often 
when  I  was  at  summer  camps." 

At  this  point  the  return  of  Philip  abruptly  changed 
the  course  of  conversation  and  Margaret  was  obliged 
to  depart  soon  after,  with  the  final  whispered  appeal, 
"Please  take  me  at  my  word,  Mrs.  MacDonald. 
I'm  wild  to  do  what  I  suggested." 

"What  does  our  society  uplifter  want  to  do,  now? 
Reform  the  lowly  mountaineer  and  introduce  bath- 
rooms and  fingerbowls  in  the  Cumberlands  cabin?'1 
laughed  Philip. 

"Don't  be  sarcastic,  Phil,"  reprimanded  his  sister. 
"She  has  the  enthusiasm  of  extreme  youth,  but  I 
think  that  she's  a  dear,  and  as  pretty  as  a  picture." 

"Pretty  enough,  in  her  way.  So  is  a  little  brook, 
but  they're  both  shallow  and  babble  on  forever.  By 
the  way,  how  did  you  like  John  Hunter?  " 


TWO  OFFERS  51 

"Immensely,"  answered  his  brother-in-law.  "And 
I  like  Margaret,  too.  She's  more  like  a  summer's 
breeze  than  a  brook,  and  decidedly  refreshing,  al- 
though each  is  not  very  likely  to  blow  steadily.  But 
were  there  ever  two  people  more  utterly  unlike  than 
our  two  afternoon  callers?" 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   HEART   OF   THE   HILLS 

A  MONTH  had  passed  by,  filled  with  busy  prepara- 
tion which  seemed  to  weary  the  man,  who  took  no 
active  part  in  it,  more  than  the  woman  upon  whose 
capable  shoulders  the  work  descended.  Although 
the  exquisite  pain  of  the  disease 's  first  onslaught  had 
passed,  it  had  left  Donald  with  a  steady,  gnawing 
ache,  and  his  irritability  had  grown  daily  more  dif- 
ficult for  him  to  conquer.  At  last  the  application  of 
splints — suggested  by  Dr.  Hunter,  who  had  becoma 
a  frequent  visitor — enabled  him  to  get  about  on 
crutches,  and  the  start  had  been  made. 

And  now  the  three  days'  journey  from  the  busy, 
modern  city  to  the  heart  of  the  nearly  primeval  hills 
was  almost  ended;  and  Rose  was  thankful. 

The  first  day  on  the  train  southward  to  Washington 
had  been  a  most  trying  one.  Donald  had  been  pa- 
tient; but  his  self-control  had  required  an  effort 
made  potent  by  the  drawn  expression  about  his  tight- 
pressed  lips,  which  had  told  her  of  his  increased  suf- 
fering more  forcibly  than  any  verbal  complaint 
could  have  done.  And  his  silence  had  been  counter- 
balanced by  Smiles,  junior,  who  had  rebelled  with 
lusty  lungs  against  the  indignity  of  being  thus  whisked 
52 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  HILLS       53 

afar  from  her  wonderful  new  nursery  and  crib  in  a 
monster  that  made  awful  noises  and  perpetually 
jiggled  one's  little  insides.  That  was,  forsooth,  no 
proper  way  to  treat  a  lady  who  had  resided  upon 
earth  but  four  months! 

Matters  had  gone  better  on  the  second  day,  how- 
ever, for,  on  the  night  trip  westward,  all  save  one  of 
them  had  rested  excellently.  Camille  had  slept 
scarcely  at  all.  The  Belgian  girl  had  never  before 
passed  a  night  on  a  train  and  she  had  found  the  ex- 
perience of  going  to  bed  in  a  sleeping  car,  crowded 
alike  with  men  and  women,  anything  but  agreeable. 
With  trembling  and  in  haste  she  had  partially  un- 
dressed behind  the  uncertain  protection  of  a  green 
curtain  which  her  wild  clutch  had  several  times 
barely  prevented  from  flying  open  in  the  middle 
when  the  male  occupant  of  the  berth  above  thrust 
it  apart.  Thereafter  she  had  lain  and  listened,  fear- 
fully, to  the  night-magnified  noises  of  their  rush 
through  the  dark — the  grinding  of  wheels  on  mountain 
curves,  the  ominous  rumble  over  trestle  bridges  and 
the  startling  shriek  of  the  whistle. 

But  Camille,  too,  had  forgotten  her  trepidations 
as  soon  as  she  had  arisen,  to  find  herself,  for  the  first 
time  in  her  life,  surrounded  by  frowning  crags  and 
wooded  mountainsides.  Rose  had  scarcely  been 
able  to  persuade  her  to  eat  her  breakfast,  and  through- 
out most  of  the  day  she  had  kept  her  enthralled  gaze 
fixed  upon  the  strange  new  scenery,  supplied  first 
by  the  picturesque  Alleghenies  and  then  the  turbulent 


54 SMILING  PASS 

waters  of  the  Greenbriar  and  New  Rivers,  whose 
winding  courses  the  tracks  paralleled.  Early,  too, 
isolated  mining  camps  had  begun  to  appear  and  sup- 
ply a  new  interest  as  the  scene  became  less  rugged, 
their  stereotyped  little  houses  looking  as  though 
they  had  all  been  cut  by  one  pattern  out  of  card- 
board and  painted  by  the  same  drab  brush.  Far 
above  them,  half-way  up  on  the  mountains'  breasts, 
were  spear-thrust  wounds  from  which  flowed  forth 
the  dark  streams  guided  in  long  wooden  chutes  to 
the  water's  edge. 

And,  as  the  still-barren,  winter-bound  elevation 
had  been  left  behind,  spring  had  come  on  apace  to 
meet  them,  ever  bringing  new  verdure — the  massed 
pink  and  white  of  peach  blossoms  near  at  hand,  and 
on  the  hills  the  deep  lilac  of  wild  Redbud  bushes 
bursting  into  bloom.  The  air  had  been  both  mild  and 
invigorating  and  all  the  little  party  were  in  excellent 
spirits.  "A  happy  home-coming,  indeed!"  Rose's 
heart  had  cried. 

But  the  third  day,  following  a  disagreeable  night 
spent  in  a  none  too-clean,  third-class  hotel,  had 
dawned  with  shield  again  reversed.  Beneath  lower- 
nig  skies,  which  sent  down  fitful  cold  showers,  they 
had  embarked  upon  an  antiquated  branch-line  train 
crowded  to  capacity  with  miners,  whose  unshaven 
faces  and  coal-blackened  clothes,  damply  odorifer- 
ous, were  not  in  the  least  picturesque  at  that  close 
proximity. 

Again  they  had  ridden  along  a  river-bank  dotted 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  HILLS       55 

with  mining  settlements.  But  squalor  had  showed 
uppermost  in  them  that  morning,  and  the  stream 
was  an  uninviting,  bilious  yellow  from  the  spring- 
time mud  which  polluted  its  waters.  Gone,  too,  were 
the  interestingly  rugged  mountains.  In  their  stead 
stood  a  never-ending  jumble  of  precipitous  foot  hills, 
whose  conical  peaks  were  almost  as  symmetrical 
and  uniform  as  the  trees  in  a  toy  Noah's  ark. 

Before  they  had  reached  the  final  changing  place 
— a  rough  mining  junction — the  rain  had  settled  into 
a  cold,  steady  drive,  and  they  had  boarded  one  of  the 
two  ramshackle  coaches,  which  shuttled  up  and  down 
the  single-track  spurline  whose  termination  was 
Fayville,  wet  and  with  the  spirits  of  all  at  a  low  ebb. 
To  be  sure,  no  complaints  were  uttered  aloud, 
except  by  Junior;  but  Donald  had  once  ex- 
pressed his  feeling  inferentially,  saying,  "Wouldn't 
our  enthusiastic  social  service  worker  adore  thisl" 

And  now  the  straggling  little  mountain-town — 
glorying  in  its  title  of  "County  Seat" — where  they 
needs  must  exchange  even  the  scant  comfort  offered 
by  the  dirty,  drafty  car  for  an  open  wagon,  was  in 
sight!  Rose  attempted  to  smile  encouragement  to 
the  others;  but  it  was  obviously  done  with  an  effort, 
and  went  unrewarded.  Camille's  loyalty  remained 
unshaken,  but  she  was  clearly  a  victim  of  disappoint- 
ment; the  baby  was  frankly  tearful,  and  Donald  in 
physical  agony  from  the  long-continued  jolting  which 
had  not  been  materially  lessened  by  the  pillows  pro- 
vided for  that  purpose. 


56  SMILING  PASS 

The  train  gave  a  series  of  more  than  customarily 
violent  jerks  and  came  to  a  stop.  But,  almost  before 
its  motion  had  fully  ceased,  the  front  doorway  of 
their  car  held  a  tall,  spare  form,  clad  in  dripping 
mackinaw,  breeches  and  leather  leggings,  and  with  a 
water-soaked  slouch  hat  sagging  down  over  its 
strong,  weather-beaten  countenance.  He  was  more 
mature,  now,  and  less  handsome  in  a  sullen  way  than 
of  yore,  yet  Rose  and  Donald  at  the  same  instant 
recognized  the  man  who  had  once  been  her  youthful 
lover  and  his  own  mortal  enemy — now  the  staunch 
friend  of  both. 

"Judd  Amos — oh,  Juddy,  I'm  so  glad  to  see  you 
again!"  cried  the  woman.  She  almost  ran  down  the 
aisle  to  meet  his  halting  advance,  and  impulsively 
placed  her  gloved  hand  on  his  drenched  shoulders. 
His  long  arms  half-encircled  her  waist  with  an  awk- 
ward movement,  and  his  lip  barely  brushed  her  glow- 
ing cheek. 

"Bully  for  you,  Judd,"  shouted  Donald,  laughing. 
"A  truly  fraternal  salutation,  that.  Now  come  on 
down  here  and  shake  hands  with  a  hopeless  cripple, 
you  old  rifle-toter.  This  is  your  chance  to  finish  that 
'wrastlin'  match'  we  started  some  six  years  ago." 

"Don't,  Don!" 

His  wife's  voice  was  full  of  sudden  pain,  but  Judd 
merely  grinned  as  he  strode  down  to  Donald's  seat 
and  held  out  his  hand,  real  pleasure  illuminating  his 
somewhat  morose  countenance.  A  sudden  perversity 
caused  the  doctor  to  put  all  of  the  strength  of  his 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  HILLS       57 

still-powerful  fingers  into  the  grasp,  just  as  he  had 
done  on  the  occasion  of  their  first  meeting,  and  the 
mountaineer  winced  again. 

Rubbing  his  outraged  member  he  exclaimed, 
"Darn  your  hide — but  I'm  plumb  glad  to  see  you 
again  and  you  seem  tew  be  doin'  pretty  good  fer 
a  sick  man.  So  this  hyar's  the  only  little  Smiles! 
I've  got  you-all  beat  by  two,"  he  added  as  he  turned 
and  jabbed  the  baby's  plump  stomach  with  a  soiled 
forefinger.  She  gurgled,  seized  it  tenaciously  and 
would  have  straightway  conveyed  it  to  her  mouth 
if  Camille — in  whose  arms  she  lay — had  not  hastily 
interposed  and  herself  grasped  Judd's  hand. 

"Keep  right  on  shaking  it,  Camille,"  Donald  com- 
manded, much  amused  at  the  girl's  expression  of 
distress.  "This  is  the  little  woman  about  whom  Rose 
wrote  you,  Judd — Camille  Laporte." 

"Pleased  to  meet  you.  I  don't  guess  she  under- 
stands English  'though.  One  uv  them  furriners, 
haint  she?"  he  asked. 

"I,  too,  am  very  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Amos," 
answered  the  girl,  in  her  deliberate  speech.  Her  face 
was  serious,  but  her  eyes  laughed  under  their  long 
lashes.  The  stranger  might  be  rough,  but  the  baby 
had  set  the  stamp  of  approval  upon  him,  therefore 
he  must  be  all  right. 

Judd  grinned  again,  a  little  sheepishly.  "Thet's 
one  on  me.  Hit's  kind  of  a  relief,  'though.  I  was 
skeered  that  you-all'd  talk  nothin'  but  thet  furrin 
lingo.  Do  you  hev  tew  wear  them  things,  Don? 


58  SMILING  PASS 

Teh,  tch,  that  is  too  bad."  His  question  was  occa- 
sioned by  the  sight  of  the  crutches  which  Rose  was 
passing  to  her  husband.  "Well,  I  reckon  thet  the 
maounting  air  will  fix  you  up  right  smart." 

"That's  just  exactly  what  I've  been  telling  him, 
Juddy,"  agreed  Rose. 

"Hmmm.  Yes,  this  extra  dry  rain  and  the  mud 
that  you  have  here  are  very  good  for  rheumatism 
and  sciatica,  I've  heard."  Donald  gave  a  twisted 
smile,  as  a  new  dart  of  pain  ran  like  a  redhot  needle 
from  thigh  to  toes. 

The  other  laughed,  but  his  look  held  a  rough  sym- 
pathy as  he  said,  "Reckon  you're  goin'  tew  say  the 
same  abaout  my  jolt  wagon,  fer  hit's  kinder  shy  on 
springs." 

"Oh,  Lord!   I  knew  it  was  coming." 

"Well,  maybe  hit  won't  be  so  bad.  I've  fixed  a 
sort  uv  bed  in  the  bottom  uv  hit,  like  Smiles  wrote 
me  tew,  and  what  with  all  them  pillers  thar,  you'll 
ride  in  style." 

"Perhaps.  Well,  I  can  stand  it,  if  you  can  stand 
my  howls,  and  the  sooner  it's  over  the  sooner  it's 
done,"  he  said  stoically.  "What  do  five  or  six  miles 
of  aches  and  pains  amount  to,  anyway?" 

"Reckon  you're  thinkin'  uv  the  old  foot-trail  over 
the  maounting,  haint  you,  Don?  The  wagon  road 
up  Bear  Creek's  more'n  ten — and  hit's  somethin' 
fierce  to-day.  I  never  seed  worse  holes  in  hit,  and  this 
hyar  rain  hes  added  an  inch  uv  the  cussedest  slip  and 
slide  thet  ever  I  seed." 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  HILLS       59 

"Good!  That's  great,  Let's  have  a  regular  time 
while  we're  about  it,"  but  Rose  broke  in  with,  "if 
you  don't  stop  I'm  going  to  change  your  name  from 
Judd  to  Job." 

Curiously  viewed  by  a  group  of  loafers  on  the 
station  platform,  the  party  made  a  slow  descent 
from  the  car  and  approached  the  waiting  jolt-wagon 
with  its  ill-assorted  team,  a  sturdy  old  horse  and  a 
tall,  scrawny  mule  from  whose  flank  the  hair  had  all 
been  chafed  by  the  breeching. 

'  'He  haint  much  fer  looks,  but  he  kin  pull  wagon, 
horse  and  all  aout  uv  a  mudhole,"  remarked  his  owner, 
proudly. 

At  the  frank  stares  from  the  roughly-clad  and 
somber-eyed  on-lookers  Camille  drew  a  little  closer 
to  Rose.  She  was  not  afraid,  but  the  strangeness  of 
it  all  made  her  instinctively  crave  the  comfort  which 
came  from  the  mere  touch  of  her  protectress'  arm 
against  her  own. 

"Naow,  you-all  climb  in  first  and  then  I'll  help 
Don  up,"  directed  their  guide. 

Rose  gracefully  mounted  the  high-bodied  vehicle 
by  wheel-hub  and  whifHetree,  and  then  Camille  re- 
turned the  baby  to  its  mother's  outstretched  arms 
and  assayed  to  do  likewise.  An  instant  later  she 
found  herself  standing  with  both  feet  ankle-deep  in 
a  mud-puddle,  and  the  interested  on-lookers  were 
laughing  uproariously  alike,  at  her  mishap  and 
startled  exclamation.  The  hub  had  been  slippery  and 
the  mule  had  decided  that  it  was  time  to  go  home. 


60 SMILING  PASS 

Shamed  discomfiture  and  anger,  intermingled, 
caused  a  furious  flush  to  spread  over  her  face,  but 
before  she  could  retrieve  her  blunder  unaided — for 
Judd  was  grinning,  too,  and  offered  no  help, — a 
young  mountaineer  had  sprung  from  before  a  general 
store  across  the  street  and  reached  her  side  with 
half  a  dozen  strides  of  his  long  legs,  encased  in  cling- 
ing army  breeches  and  woolen  puttees. 

Without  pausing,  he  bent,  held  his  large  hand — 
palm  upward — at  the  girl's  feet  and  said,  "Step  there, 
Miss,  and  I'll  have  you  up  hi  a  jiffy." 

The  command  was  so  incisive  that  Camille  obeyed 
it  almost  without  being  conscious  of  so  doing.  With 
one  of  her  hands  she  was  still  grasping  the  wagon's 
side,  and,  as  she  felt  herself  being  suddenly  lifted  into 
the  air,  she  instinctively  threw  out  her  other  arm 
and  clutched  the  stranger  about  the  neck.  Another 
startled  little  "Oh!"  was  wrung  from  her,  whereupon 
the  delighted  by-standers  laughed  anew  and  began 
to  call  out,  "Good  work,  Virgie,"  "Haow'll  you 
swap  jobs?"  "Virgie  likes  'em  fryin'  size,"  and  simi- 
lar rude  witticisms. 

"CochonsI"  the  girl  flashed  out  angrily,  as  she 
found  herself  safe  at  Rose's  side.  She  quickly  re- 
covered herself  and  turned  to  thank  her  unknown 
knight — still  speaking,  however,  in  her  mother-ton- 
gue as  always  in  moments  of  sudden  excitement. 
"Je  vous  remercie,  Monsieur.  Que  vous  etes  un  bon 
chevalier!" 

"Pas  .    .   .  pas  .    .    .  pas  de  tout,  mademoiselle," 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  HILLS       61 

stammered  the  youth.  Suddenly  as  red  of  face  as 
she,  he  turned  and  fairly  fled  to  his  horse,  which  was 
tied  to  a  post  opposite.  In  an  instant  he  had  vaulted 
into  the  saddle  and  was  off  at  a  gallop  down  the 
street,  pursued  by  more  shouted  jibes  from  the 
platform. 

"Well,  I'll  be  hanged!"  exclaimed  Donald.  "Who 
was  the  noble  youth  who  speaks  something  akin  to 
French,  Judd?" 

"Him?  Oh,  that's  Virgil  Gayheart.  Lives  up 
aour  way,"  replied  the  other,  shortly. 

Another  and  the  final  lap  of  the  hard  journey  was 
ending  at  last.  It  had  been  a  teeth-clenched  torture 
for  Donald;  a  thing  of  bodily  discomfort  and  ner- 
vous apprehension  for  the  two  women.  The  cold 
spring  rain  had  poured  down  steadily,  and  steadily 
through  it  the  horse  and  mule  had  plodded  ever 
upward,  over  the  road  which  was  now  a  morass,  now 
a  stretch  of  rocks  big  and  little,  now  merely  the 
boulder-filled  bed  of  the  swollen  creek. 

Jolt,  jounce,  slip;  slip,  jolt  and  jounce,  over  and  over 
again  it  had  been,  varied  only  by  frequent  abrupt 
drops  of  from  one  to  two  feet  as  the  wheels  on  one 
side  or  the  other  had  gone,  hub  deep,  into  holes  and 
gullies.  Sometimes  it  had  seemed  almost  inevitable 
that  the  wagon  would  overturn,  but  they  had  come 
to  learn  that  it  was  especially  constructed  for  this 
sort  of  travel  and  that  there  was  no  real  danger  in  a 
ninety  degree  tilt. 


SMILING  PASS 


In  time  the  man  on  his  half-reclining  bed,  tenaci- 
ously holding  to  the  side  with  a  hand  on  which  the 
sinews  and  veins  stood  out  painfully,  and  the  two 
women,  seated  on  their  ever-slipping  suitcases,  had 
become  accustomed  to  this  mode  of  travel  and 
changed  apprehension  to  stoicism;  but  their  comfort 
had  not  been  increased  thereby. 

Once,  too,  when  they  were  riding  on  a  precipitous 
hillside,  almost  overhanging  the  tumbling  waters  of 
the  creek,  the  wagon  had  slewed  and  gone  partly 
over  the  edge,  whereupon  Rose  had  screamed,  "  Judd, 
Judd!  What  shall  we  do?  Donald  can't  jump." 

"Sit  tight,"  their  driver  had  called  back,  turning 
to  grin  over  his  shoulder  a  moment  later.  "Thar 
warn't  no  danger.  Only  one  wheel  went  over  and  the 
inside  ones  was  in  a  rut.  A  wagon  and  pair  uv  mules 
did  go  daown  thar  last  Fall,  'though.  Stove  the  man 
up  some  and  they  hed  to  kill  the  animals.  Haint 
plumb  bad  to-day." 

Up  and  down  they  had  gone,  but  ever  reaching 
higher  levels  amid  mountains  whose  ascent  was 
steeper,  with  rocky  formations  cropping  out  among 
the  trees  more  frequently.  Isolated  dwellings  they 
had  passed,  as  well;  dreary-looking  little  cabins, 
which  seemed  to  cower  in  their  hollows  as  the  rain 
beat  down  upon  them.  So,  on  and  on,  mile  after 
weary  mile,  never  moving  faster  than  a  slow  walk, 
never  stopping  except  to  breathe  the  horse  and  mule 
or  give  them  a  chance  to  drink  from  the  foaming 
creek  in  which  they  stood  knee-deep. 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  HILLS       63 

More  than  once  Rose  had  glanced  first  at  the  suf- 
fering man  and  then  at  the  silent,  white-faced  girl, 
neither  of  whom  uttered  a  word  of  complaint,  al- 
though their  raincoats  had  not  prevented  them  from, 
being  drenched  from  feet  to  knees,  and  her  conscience 
had  smitten  her.  Was  this,  then,  the  bright  land  of 
promise,  the  country  of  which  her  memory  had 
painted  for  them  so  fair  a  picture,  selecting,  it 
seemed,  only  the  gayest  colors?  Distance  indeed 
lends  enchantment,  and  a  spot  may  look  very  dif- 
ferently when  viewed  afar  through  the  rose-tinted 
glasses  of  childhood  and  seen  by  disillusioned  ma- 
turity as  it  is!  Had  she,  after  all,  made  a  terrible 
mistake  in  bringing  them  there? 

Now  the  five  hour  torture  was  nearly  over;  the  last 
ascent,  the  last  of  the  innumerable  twists  had  been 
reached.  As  though  in  eleventh  hour  repentance  the 
weather  suddenly  cleared;  the  rain  ceased,  the  fast- 
descending  sun  burst  in  a  perfect  flood  of  golden 
glory  from  beneath  the  lifting  bank  of  sullen  storm- 
clouds.  Raindrops,  clinging  to  branch  and  rock  and 
molding  leaf  sparkled  prismatically  everywhere — a 
magic  transformation  had  taken  place  before  their 
very  eyes. 

Their  hearts  responded.  Tongues  were  loosed  and 
Donald,  despite  his  pain,  ventured  a  jest  and  begged 
Judd  to  go  right  on  up  the  mountainside  to  the  old 
still  and  see  if  he  couldn't  manage  to  "worm"  some 
corn-liquor  out  of  it.  Rose's  smiling  rebuke  caused 


64 SMILING  PASS 

him  to  continue  contrarily  and  recount  the  story  of 
the  darky  named  Joshua  who  in  answer  to  the  Judge's 
facetious  inquiry  whether  or  not  he  was  the  man  who 
made  the  sun  stand  still,  replied,  "No,  sah,  I'se  the 
Joshuey  that  made  the  moonshine." 

The  cabin  home  of  Smiles'  happy  childhood  came 
into  view.  Pathetically  small  and  primitive  it  looked, 
yet  her  heart  leaped  at  the  sight  of  it,  and  Donald's 
eyes  for  a  moment  lost  their  drawn  look.  As  they 
climbed  slowly  towards  it,  each  began  to  remind  the 
other  of  memoried  incidents  which  clustered  thick 
about  it.  A  Kentucky  Cardinal — a  "Joe  Reese 
bird,"  Judd  called  it — flew  from  a  dead  stump,  pip- 
ing a  welcome. 

"But  it  is  very  sweet,  your  little  'ome,  Souris," 
delightedly  exclaimed  Camille,  using  the  French 
word  for  her  benefactress'  pet  name.  "I  know  that 
I  shall  love  it." 

"Judd!"  cried  Rose  an  Instant  later.  "There's 
a  new  sign  on  that  tree.  Stop,  I  want  to  read  it." 

Their  driver  complied  and  the  woman  read  aloud 
the  words:  "No  Tresspassin.  Anyone  injuring  this 
House  or  Land  Will  Answer  to  Judd  Amos." 

"Why,  Judd,  you  dear  man!"  There  was  a  sus- 
picious little  catch  in  her  voice  and  her  eyes  were 
mistily  luminous. 

Judd  seemed  about  to  reply,  but  he  merely  ex- 
pectorated over  the  wheel  and  said,  "Ho-a.  Git 
along,  thar." 

"I  believe  that  .   .   .  yes,  somebody  is  in  the 


THE  HEART  OF  THE  HILLS       65 

house!"  she  exclaimed  again.  "See,  smoke  is  coming 
from  the  chimney — oh,  how  good  a  fire  will  feel  and 
what  a  happy  reunion  we'll  have  before  it  to-night! 
Who  is  in  there,  Judd?" 

"Moonshiners,  I  reckon,"  he  answered,  with  a 
grin,  but  at  that  moment  some  one  appeared  in  the 
doorway  and  waved  wildly  to  them.  The  evening 
sunlight  struck  full  upon  the  slender  form  and  set 
to  shimmering  the  tumult  of  golden  hair  which 
crowned  the  merry  face  of  a  young  girl,  half  way  up 
on  whose  forehead  showed  a  narrow  white  scar' 
shaped  like  a  crescent  moon. 

"Oh,  oh,  oh!  It's  my  little  Lou — my  first  baby — 
grown  into  a  big  girl.  My  darling!"  A  girl  herself  in 
actions,  Rose  sprang  to  the  ground  and  caught 
Judd's  child-sister  in  her  motherly  embrace. 

Weary  as  they  were  her  prophecy  was  fulfilled, 
and  they  sat  late  into  the  evening  before  the  friendly 
blaze  on  the  broad  hearth,  talking  over  old  times  and 
telling  of  what  later  life  had  brought  each  in  their 
wide-apart  spheres.  At  length  Judd  arose,  stretched 
himself  and  said,  "We'll  I  reckon  thet  we-all  hed 
better  be  getting'  along" 

"No,  no,  not  yet.  Do  stay,"  beseeched  Rose,  un- 
consciously falling  back  into  the  customary  formula 
for  mountain  farewells. 

"We  kaint.  You-all  come  daown  with  us.  Better 
go  daown." 

Suddenly  she  laughed.    "Isn't  it  delicious?    Each 


SMILING  PASS 


of  us  knows  that  the  other  can't  comply  with  the 
invitation,  yet  we  mean  it,  just  the  same.  Folks 
here  will  mean  it,  Camille,  if  they  ask  you  to  'stay 
the  night'  or  'stay  a  week'." 

"Thet's  so,"  supplemented  Judd.  "And  I  reckon 
thet  Lou'll  be  wantin'  you  tew  stay  a  week  with  us, 
right  soon.  Well,  we've  got  to  be  gettin'  along." 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  COMING   OF  HUMPTY  HITE 

DURING  the  night  which  followed  Donald  came 
to  feel  that  he  could  appreciate  fully  what  the  rack- 
tortured  victims  of  the  Inquisition  had  been  obliged 
to  bear.  The  jolting  ride,  the  bed — hard  and  lumpy 
in  spite  of  his  wife's  efforts  to  make  it  more  endur- 
able by  padding  the  straw-filled  mattress  with  two 
thick  comforters — had  doubled  the  grinding  ache  in 
his  thigh.  Time  and  again  he  bitterly  cursed  Fate 
and  himself  for  coming  thither,  afar  from  every 
comfort,  merely  to  humor  Rose  in  her  childish  con- 
viction that  there,  and  nowhere  else,  would  health 
be  restored  to  him,  And  as  often  shame  equally  bitter 
had  followed  as  he  ever  so  gently  reached  out  his 
hand  and  touched  the  sleeping  woman  at  his  side. 
To  have  her  and  her  love  was  more  than  compensation! 
Now  dawn  had  come.  He  was  more  comfortable 
and,  with  the  brightening  day,  his  vagrant  thoughts 
became  correspondingly  more  cheerful.  Rose  and 
Camille  were  already  astir  in  the  other  room,  but  he 
had  been  sternly  forbidden  to  exchange  the  warm 
bed  for  his  cushioned  chair  therein,  until  the  night- 
chill  should  be  banished  from  it  by  the  blaze  which 
they  had  already  kindled  in  the  big  fireplace.  The 
67 


SMILING  PASS 


door  from  the  tiny  bedroom  was  open,  however,  and 
he  could  watch  the  ruddy  light  flickering  on  the 
weathered  spruce  boards  of  the  end  wall  and  on  the 
rafters  of  the  slanting  roof,  long  before  the  sun's 
level  rays  touched  the  top  of  the  opposite  mountain. 

Smiles,  junior — like  all  healthy  and  therefore 
good  babies — had  gone  peacefully  to  sleep  again 
after  her  morning  meal,  and  she  lay  in  the  rude  crib 
which  Judd  had  made  for  her,  close  by  his  bedside, 
where  he  could,  merely  by  raising  his  head  a  little, 
look  down  upon  her  rosebud  face. 

"'God's  in  His  heaven;  all's  well  with  the  world' 
after  all,"  he  whispered,  as  he  heard  the  woman  and 
the  girl  singing  at  their  work  a  little  French  refrain 
— Rose  carrying  the  air,  with  Camille's  soft  voice 
supplying  an  improvised  contralto. 

"Breakfast  is  almost  ready,  Bonnie  dear,"  called 
Rose.  "We've  just  the  things  that  we  used  to  have 
when  you  first  stayed  here  over-night,  in  your  little 
'loft  room' — remember?  I  may  be  sentimentally 
silly,  but  I  wanted  to  start  life  afresh,  exactly  as  we 
did  then.  I'll  be  in  to  help  you  dress  in  just  a  minute." 

"Don't  hurry,"  the  man  answered  in  a  cheerful 
voice.  "I'm  having  a  glorious  time  looking  at  the 
'pot  of  gold'  and  the  band  of  the  same  precious  metal 
on  the  top  of  the  mountain.  Some  morning  I  mean 
to  get  up  before  sunrise,  climb  .up  there,  and  get  it. 
Then  we'll  all  be  rich  for  ever  n'ever." 

"We're  rich,  now,"  answered  his  wife,  softly. 

A  moment  of  silence  followed,  broken  only  by  th« 


THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  HITE    69 

calls  of  a  pair  of  Cardinals  in  the  trees  outside  and  the 
clatter  of  crockery  dishes  being  set  upon  the  bare 
board  table.  Then  he  added,  "It's  fried  meat,  corn 
bread  and  black  coffee,  I'll  bet.  Ummm,  but  they 
smell  good;  you  can't  hold  me  here  much  longer!" 

As  he  ended  his  sentence  there  came  the  sound  of 
a  halting  step  on  the  little  porch;  a  hesitating  knock. 
He  heard  Rose  go  to  the  door  and  open  it.  "  Judd," 
he  thought,  until  he  caught  the  note  of  surprise  in 
her  voice  as  she  said  ,"  Good-morning." 

"Mornin,'  ma'm.  You're  Mistress  MacDonuP, 
I  reckon,"  responded  an  unfamiliar  voice,  and  it  im- 
mediately continued  in  the  indistinct  mountain 
drawl,  which,  when  he  had  first  heard  it,  had  been 
almost  as  difficult  for  Donald  to  understand  as  a 
foreign  language.  "I  was  daown  tew  Judd  Amos's 
store  last  night  and  he  toP  me  that  you-all  hed  cum." 

"And  you're  here,  bright  and  early,  to  welcome 
us?  That  certainly  is  neighborly  of  you,  ]&r.  *.  .  . 
I'm  afraid  that  I  don't  know  your  name." 

"Hit's  Stacy,  ma'am,  but  folks  mostly  calls  me 
'Humpty  Kite' ." 

"  'Stacy?  Then  I  guess  that  you  don't  live  here 
in  Webb's  gap.  The  Stacys  ..." 

"I  allaows  you're  right.  We-all  lives  mostly  up 
Beaten  Creek  way." 

"Why,  that  must  be  six  miles  or  more,  if  I  can  re- 
member back  six  years!" 

"Hit  air,  I  reckon." 

"And  have  you  walked  all  that  distance  this 
morning?" 


70 SMILING  PASS 

"No,  ma'm,  I  rud  my  little  ol'  mule." 

By  this  time  curiosity  had  conquered  Donald.  He 
painfully  swung  his  legs  over  the  side  of  the  bed, 
holding  back  a  groan  with  clinched  teeth,  and  began 
to  dress. 

The  dialogue  behind  the  scenes  continued. 

"I'm  very  glad  to  know  you,  Mr.  Stacy.  Do  come  in 
and  have  breakfast  with  us;  it's  almost  ready." 

"Thank  ye,  ma'm,  but  I  hev  et  breakfast  a'ready 
— two  hours  ago." 

"Well,  come  in  anyway.  You  must  have  some- 
thing special  to  bring  you  here  so  early." 

"I  reckon  I  hev.  Long  time  agone  I  war  minded 
tew  come  es  soon  es  you-all  arruv,  fer  I  knowd  thet 
you  war  a-comin' ." 

"You  did?   How  on  earth  ..." 

There  was  a  new  note  of  surprise  in  Rose's  voice. 

"The  Lord  tol'  me,  I  reckon.  Hit's  this  way, 
ma'm.  When  I  gets  me  up  in  the  mornin'  the  furst- 
est  thing  I  allus  does  is  tew  go  out  tew  the  barn  whar 
the  mule  and  the  cattle  air,  fer  t'war  in  a  place  liken 
thet,  the  Lord  He  cum  tew  the  earth.  And  thar  He 
tol'  me  thet  you-all  war  a-coming'  some  day  fer  tew 
help  us-uns  thet  kaint  help  ourselves  none." 

Clumping  along  on  his  crutches,  Donald  reached 
the  outer  room  and  looked  towards  their  early  visitor 
over  his  wife's  shoulder.  He  knew  enough  about  the 
mountain  people  to  realize  that  the  man  who  stood 
in  the  sunlight,  facing  him,  was  probably  of  no  more 
than  what  would  be  called  "middle-age,"  but  from 


THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  HITE    71 

his  appearance  he  might  have  lived  forever.  His 
sparse  gray  hair,  his  wrinkled  cheeks  and  sunken 
jaws — unshaven  for  several  days — his  watery,  faded- 
blue  eyes,  bespoke  wasting  disease  and  wearisome 
toil;  the  frustration  of  manhood.  His  garments  were 
apparently  three;  a  ragged  coat  that  hung  dispirit- 
edly over  his  bony  frame,  trousers  still  more  frayed, 
patched  and  soiled,  and  a  nondescript  shirt,  collar- 
less  and  open  at  the  neck.  His  feet  were  bare.  To 
complete  the  picture  the  man's  back  was  bowed  al- 
most double  under  the  weight  of  heavy  burdens 
borne,  or  rheumatism — or  both.  It  pathetically  ex- 
plained the  alliterative  nick-name  by  which  he  had 
introduced  himself.  A  pathetic  figure  their  visitor 
indeed  appeared,  and  might  well  have  been  repel- 
lent if  his  countenance  had  not  been  illuminated  by 
an  almost  toothless  smile  of  radiating  friendliness. 

Rose  turned  instantly  at  the  sound  of  Donald's 
crutches  on  the  uncovered  floor  and  gave  him  her 
visible  morning  greeting,  far  brighter,  he  thought, 
than  the  sunlight  on  the  hills. 

"Have  you  heard,  Don?"  she  asked,  and  he  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  luminous  with  unshed  tears. 

"I  most  certainly  have  heard.  Come  in,  friend  and 
sit  down.  Of  course  you  can  eat  again  after  a  two 
hours'  ride  on  mule  back." 

"I  haint  fit  fer  tew  eat  with  you-all  naow,  I  don't 
reckon,  but  I'll  cum  in  and  set  fer  a  minute,"  was 
the  answer. 

The  silent,  fascinated  Camille  placed  a  chair  before 


72  SMILING  PASS 

the  fire  for  the  newcomer.  He  seated  himself,  bent 
far  over,  extended  his  twisted  hands  to  the  pleasant 
warmth,  and  calmly  expectorated  a  stream  of  tobacco 
juice  into  the  blaze. 

Rose  made  a  little  grimace  behind  his  back  and 
Donald  smiled. 

"Hit's  this-a-way,  ma'm,"  their  caller  continued 
without  further  questioning.  "I  knowed  thet  you-all 
hed  cum  tew  help  take  keer  uv  us  in  sickness,  fer 
Judd  told  me  thet  your  man  war  a  doctor  and  you 
knowed  how  tew  nuss  folks.  Thet  air  mighty  fine, 
fer  we-all  don't  dew  right  well  much  of  the  time.  My- 
self, I  tuck  a  fall  yesterday.  I  war  prizing  up  a  log 
and  hed  turned  hit  over  two  or  three  times  when  the 
bar  broke  and  I  skun  my  hide  right  powerful.  Look 
thar!" 

He  unconcernedly  raised  his  coat,  drew  up  his 
soiled  shirt  and  displayed  a  badly  bruised  patch  on 
his  side. 

"Oh,  I'll  get  something  to  put  on  it,"  cried  Rose, 
all  the  nurse  again. 

"Thank  ye,  ma'm,  'taint  nowise  necessary.  Hit'll 
git  well  uv  hitself." 

"Yes,  I  suppose  that  it  will,"  the  girl  said,  in  an 
aside  to  Donald.  "Almost  anyone  except  a  moun- 
taineer would  have  had  a  bad  case  of  septicemia  by 
now,  but  they're  auto-immune  against  most  dis- 
eases." 

He  merely  nodded,  for  Humpty  Kite  was  speak- 
ing again. 


THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  KITE    73 

"The  docterin'  air  fine,  but  we-all  needs  more 
than  thet.  We  hev  need  uv  medicine  fer  our  bodies, 
thet  air  a  fact,  what  with  the  typhoid  and  pneumony 
fever,  the  red  sore  eyes  and  sechlike,  but  more  than 
thet  our  minds  needs  doctorin'.  I  don't  reckon  thet 
we-all  growed-ups  kin  git  much  help  thet-a  way,  fer 
we  air  too  plumb  ignorant.  Myself,  I  haint  hed  nary 
a  bit  of  eddication  and  kaint  read  or  write,  ma'am; 
but  hit's  the  children  I  air  a-studyin'  abaout.  I  wants 
fer  them  tew  hev  the  chance  that  we  haint  never  hed." 

"Why,  haven't  you  any  school  at  Beaten?"  in- 
quired Rose. 

"They  hev  what  they  calls  a  school-house,  but 
thar  haint  scersely  never  no  teacher  thar  and  when 
one  air  hit's  a  p'or  one.  I  haint  a-blamin'  the  County, 
fer  hit's  hard  tew  git  men  tew  cum  and  live  the  way 
us-uns  live,  especially  when  the  folks  haint  a-goin' 
tew  let  their  young-uns  go  to  school  skersely  none. 
Yo'  know  how  hit  air  in  these  hyar  maountings, 
ma'am." 

"Indeed  I  do,  Mr.  Stacy.  I  was  brought  up  right 
here  and  I  learned  almost  nothing  until  Dr.  Mac- 
Donald  came." 

"  I  air  aimin'  tew  ask  ye  tew  call  me  'Humpty  Kite/ 
ma'am.  Hit  sounds  more  friendly-like,  whatever. 
Yes,  you  lived  hyar  and  you  knows.  Your  man  cum 
from  the  furrin  parts  beyond  the  hills,  and  he  brung 
the  light  uv  eddication  intew  your  darkness  hyar, 
and  I  reckon  thet  the  Lord  hes  sent  you  back  tew  do 
the  same  fer  us-uns." 


74 SMILING  PASS 

He  stopped.  The  woman's  sympathetic  distress 
was  now  obvious,  and  Camille's  big  brown  eyes  were 
kindling  as  with  a  vision  which  her  mind  beheld,  but 
could  not  fully  comprehend.  Donald  glanced  from 
one  to  the  other,  wondering  what  the  outcome  would 
be. 

"Why  .  .  .  why  ...  I  don't  know  what  to 
tell  you.  You  can  be  sure  that  I — that  we — should 
like  to  help  in  any  way  that  is  possible  while  we  are 
here,  but  a  school  ...  I  don't  know.  We  had 
thought  of  it,  a  little,  but  for  here — in  my  own  home, 
Hite." 

"The  need  air  greater  thar,  ma'am.  The  young- 
uns  hyar  kin  get  tew  go  tew  the  settlement  school  et 
Fayville — hit  haint  fur — and  thar's  mighty  few 
cabins  hyarbaouts,  while  we-all  hev  a  right  smart 
settlement  in  Beaten;  fo'ty  famblies,  I  reckon,  strung 
along  the  creek.  You-all  cum  thar  and  see.  You'll 
stay;  I  knows  thet  you  will,  ma'am.  Hit's  fer  thet 
thet  I  hev  cum  hyar  this  mornin' — so  thet  my  Shade 
and  Iry  and  Seephy  and  the  rest  of  my  young-uns 
kin  hev  a  chance  fer  tew  git  an  eddication,  them 
and  the  rest  thet  lives  in  Beaten." 

"Oh,  Don,  what  can  I  say?" 

Rose's  cry  of  appeal  went  out  to  her  husband.  He 
shook  his  head.  The  problem  was  her's  to  solve  or 
to  pass. 

"Oh,  I  should  like  to  help  you — help  all  my  people, 
Hite;  but  .  .  .  but  I  came  here  to  find  rest  for  my- 
self; rest  and  pure  mountain  air  for  my  husband. 


THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  KITE   75 

He  is  sick,  you  see.  Of  course  I  have  intended  to  aid 
all  I  could  by  nursing  the  other  sick  ones  here — es- 
pecially the  babies — but  what  you  suggest  is  such  a 
big  thing  ..." 

"Hit  air  a  big  thing,  ma'am;  but  yo  hev  eddica- 
tion  and  the  love  uv  the  maountings.  You  kin  do 
hit,  ef  you  will." 

Intuitively,  Humpty  Hate  had  made  the  most 
powerful  appeal  to  Rose  that  was  possible.  He  had 
challenged  her  will,  her  courage!  As  Donald  watched 
her,  for  the  moment  utterly  forgetful  of  his  own 
bodily  weakness  and  pain  in  trying  to  follow  the 
working  of  her  mind  through  her  outward  expres- 
sions, he  saw  the  light  of  battle  supersede  the  look  of 
trouble  in  her  eyes. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence,  during  which  the 
eager  light  faded  slowly  again,  as  the  woman  thought 
of  the  multitude  of  almost  insurmountable  difficul- 
ties which  blocked  the  path  suggested  by  Humpty 
Hite. 

Rather  lamely  she  said,  at  length,  "Oh,  if  I  .  .  . 
if  we  only  could  make  your  dream  come  true,  but  I 
don't  know  ...  I  have  my  home  here,  a  place  to 
work  from,  and  I'm  afraid  that  there  is  no  place  for 
us  in  Beaten." 

"Not  naow,  thar  haint,  but  thar  kin  be,  fer  I  air 
aimin'  tew  deed  off  tew  you-all  a  right  smart  strip 
uv  my  own  farm.  Ef  you'll  cum — and  I  don't  reckon 
that  you  air  a-goin'  ter  refuse,  fer  the  Lord  said  you 
war  a'cumin' — you  kin  build  you  a  place  thar.  I 


76 SMILING  PASS 

allows  that  you  kin  riz  on  my  land  a  building  fer  tew 
live  in  and  that  you  kin  make  the  chillun  tew  hev 
weller  bodies  and  eddicated  minds,  too.  And  perhaps, 
ef  hit  haint  too  late,  learn  me  and  my  woman  and  the 
rest  uv  un  on  Beaten  haow  we-all  kin  live  not  liken 
the  hogs  but  wwliken'em.  We  haint  tew  blame  fer 
livin'  liken  the  hogs,  Ma'am,  fer  we-all  haint  never 
hed  no  chance." 

During  the  utterance  of  his  simple  statement  the 
expression  in  Smiles'  eyes  had  changed  once  more. 
Tears  were  trembling  on  her  long  lashes,  and  Don- 
ald had  to  swallow  hard  to  remove  the  lump  that  had 
risen  in  his  own  throat.  They  both  knew  that  Hump- 
ty  had  spoken  the  truth.  The  people  who  dwelt  in 
Beaten,  with  the  rest  of  the  world  shut  out  by  high 
surrounding  hills,  even  as  the  sunlight  was  at  early 
morning  and  long  before  night  fell  in  the  outer  world, 
had  "never  had  no  chance."  The  childlike  sincerity 
of  the  appeal  made  refusal  seem  almost  criminal. 

Their  visitor,  for  all  his  simplicity,  knew  what  they 
were  thinking  and  that  the  advantage  lay  with  him. 
He  got  up  slowly  and  stood,  bowed  and  pitiable, 
typifying  the  people  whose  self-appointed  emissary 
he  was,  making  their  plea  alike  through  his  twisted 
body  and  halting  tongue,  although  he  must  have 
known  that  they  would,  almost  to  a  soul,  bitterly 
oppose  the  project  which  he  advocated. 

"I  reckon  thet  I'll  be  gittin'  along,  naow.  You-all 
cum  and  see  fer  yourselves;  see  the  need  thar;  see  ef  I 
haint  spoke  the  truth.  You  cum  this  evenin',"  he  said. 


THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  HITE    77 

"Yes,  I'll  come;  I  promise  you  that  much,"  Rose 
replied. 

"Sit  down,  Kite.  Of  course  you'll  stay  to  break- 
fast now,"  urged  Donald.  But  the  other  answered, 
"I  don't  reckon  I  will,  thank  you,  sir.  I'd  best  be 
gittin'  back  home.  Me  and  my  boy  Jep  air  clarin' 
a  right  smart  piece  uv  maounting  land  fer  tew  plant 
intew  corn  this  spring  and  hit's  gittin'  late,  already." 

"Oh,  do  stay,"  Rose  begged  and  Camille  hesi- 
tatingly added,  "Please  do,  Mr.  Kite." 

"Ikaint.  You-all  cum." 

Without  further  adieux  Humpty  Kite  put  on  his 
torn  and  shapeless  hat  and  shuffled  out. 

"Well,  what  are  you  going  to  do  about  it"?  Don- 
ald demanded,  when,  through  the  open  door,  they 
had  seen  their  strange  visitor  climb  stiffly  onto  his 
"little  ol'  mule"  and  head  up  the  creek. 

"Keep  my  promise,  this  afternoon.  For  the  rest 
: .  ,  .  we'll  see.  But  what  a  glorious  opportunity 
for  service  it  would  be,  Don ! "  Turning  to  the  younger 
girl,  she  said,  "There,  Camille,  now  you  know  better 
what  I  meant  when  I  tried  to  tell  you  what  life  is  and 
means  to  the  people  among  whom  I  was  brought  up. 
Could  anything  be  more  unlike  your  brave  Belgium 
or  our  dear  France?" 

"I  .  .  .  I  don't  reckon  thet  hit  could,"  answered 
the  girl  with  a  whimsical  imitation  of  their  caller's 
voice,  a  smile  in  her  eyes.  "I  suppose  that  means 
'I  guess  that  it  couldn't,'  doesn't  it,  Sourish" 


78 SMILING  PASS 

"My,  my!  How  quick  our  little  English  scholar  is 
learning!  No,  it  couldn't.  As  Kite  said,  we  are  a 
little  nearer  a  town,  with  its  school  and  railroad, 
and  the  light  of  civilization  has  penetrated  this  far 
just  a  tiny  bit.  But  up  where  he  lives !  Wait  and  see, 
for  I  want  you  to  ride  up  there  with  me  this  after- 
noon— 'evenin',  he  called,  for  any  time  after  dinner 
is  evening,  here  in  the  mountains." 

"I  understood  only  part  of  what  the  poor  man 
said,  but  it  was  very  sad,  I  think.  Did  he  ...  did 
he  talk  English?  It  was  very  hard  to  comprehend." 

The  other  two  laughed  and  Smiles  replied,  "Cer- 
tainly it  wasn't  exactly  like  the  English  that  you 
have  learned — it  is  a  patois;  not  really  bad,  but  old- 
fashioned.  You  see,  dear,  these  people's  ancestors 
came  in  here  a  hundred — perhaps  two  hundred  years 
ago.  They  started  for  the  rich  lands  in  the  west  which 
they  had  heard  about,  for  they  were  pioneers — some 
of  them  the  best  and  bravest  blood  of  the  early 
English  settlers.  And  they  got  stuck  here.  Do  you 
wonder?  You  know  how  hard  it  was  for  us  to  get  in, 
yesterday;  think  how  much  harder  it  must  have 
been  to  get  out  in  the  old  days  when  there  were  no 
roads  at  all,  nothing  but  this  eternal  jumble  of  hills, 
mile  after  mile  and  all  covered  with  thick  woods! 

"Just  imagine  that  you  were  one  of  those  early 
settlers,  with  his  wife  and  little  children,  lost  in  these 
hills  and  wearied-out  with  plodding  on,  day  after 
day.  Do  you  wonder  that  they  just  quit  and  sat 
down,  at  last?  And  do  you  wonder  that  they  named 


THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  HITE    79 

their  quitting  places  Troublesome,  and  Beaten  creek 
and  the  like?  I  don't.  They  were  actually  defeated 
by  Nature. 

"Well,  here  their  families  have  stayed,  standing 
still  while  the  busy  world  outside  has  gone  forward 
— and  philosophers  tell  us  that  standing  still  is  going 
backwards.  You'll  see  it  all,  this  afternoon.  But  I 
didn't  mean  to  deliver  a  lecture.  What  I  started  to 
say  was  that  Humpty  Hite  and  the  rest  speak  English 
as  almost  everyone  spoke  it  two  hundred  years  ago, 
although  they  have  become  careless,  of  course.  The 
French  tongue  has  grown,  little  by  little,  from  the 
Latin  and  Celtic,  and  the  English  from  the  language 
of  the  Angles  and  Saxons  with  thousands  of  Latin 
and  Greek  words  added.  But  these  people  here  come 
closer  to  talking  the  old  Anglo-Saxon  than  any  Eng- 
lish-speaking men  in  the  world  to-day." 

"Yes,  I  think  that  I  understand,  now,  Souris.  It 
is  very  interesting,  n'est  ce  pas?" 

"Very,"  grinned  Donald.  "But  with  all  due 
respect  to  Rose's  ability  as  historian  and  philological 
lecturer,  I  am  at  present  more  interested  in  the  army 
motto,  'When  do  we  eat?'  ' 

"Oh,  you  poor  man!  When  I  get  to  thinking  about 
my  mountains,  my  head  is  in  the  clouds — as  theirs 
are  sometimes.  Sit  over  here.  No,  Camille  shall 
place  the  chair  for  you." 

The  three  took  their  places,  Donald  in  the  big 
chair  which  Smiles'  giant  grandfather  had  made  for 
himself  and  which  was  now  deeply  padded  with  cush- 


80 SMILING  PASS 

ions,  the  two  girls  on  t1  i  almost  indestructible  hand- 
made chairs  on  which  Rose  had  sat  as  a  child.  With 
more  boyish  enthusiasm  than  he  had  displayed  for 
many  a  long  month,  Donald  played  a  tattoo  upon 
his  thick  plate  with  knife  and  fork  and  hungrily  de- 
manded sustenance. 

But  his  wife  checked  him  with,  "Stop,  stop!  If 
you  wake  up  the  baby  I'll  make  you  hold  her,  for 
I'm  twice  as  hungry  as  you  can  possibly  be.  Besides, 
grace  before  meat.  We're  starting  a  new  day — in 
every  sense  of  the  word.  Let's  start  it  right,  Don. 

"You  haven't  forgotten  the  little  blessing  that  I 
taught  you,  years  ago  in  France?  '*  she  added,  ad- 
dressing Camille. 

The  girl  folded  her  hands  and  bowed  her  head. 
Very  softly  she  began,  "For  all  the  blessings  of  this 
day,  for  rest  and  food,  for  work  and  play,  we  give 
Thee  thanks,  O  God  of  light.  Help  us  to  live  our 
lives  aright.  Help  us  to  serve  our  fellow  men,  through 
Jesus  Christ,  our  Lord.  Amen." 

And  Rose  repeated,  under  her  breath,  the  words 
"  'to  serve  our  fellow  men!'  ' 

The  ribs  of  pork,  fried  crispy  brown,  the  corn 
bread,  rich  golden-crusted,  and  the  strong  black 
coffee  held  their  attention  for  a  time  and  conversa- 
tion was  in  monosyllables.  At  last  Donald  looked  up 
and  said,  abruptly,  "What  do  you  really  think?" 

His  wife  understood  and  answered  slowly,  "I 
haven't  really  thought,  yet.  But  I  couldn't  help  be- 
ing stirred.  Could  you?  " 


THE  COMING  OF  HUMPTY  KITE    81 

"No.  It  was  .  .  .  well,  it  was  out  of  the  or- 
dinary. He's  a  character,  despite  his  soiled  hide — as 
he  called  it  .  .  ." 

"  'E  was  white,  clean  white  inside,'  "  quoted 
Rose,  and  Donald  retorted  in  a  pretended  huff,  "You 
took  the  words  right  out  of  my  mouth." 

"We  both  know  that  he  told  the  truth.  Their  need 
is  crying;  but  is  it  for  us  to  fill  it?" 

"The  call  came  to  you." 

"Donald!  I'm  beginning  to  believe  .  .  .  Oh, 
my  dear,  if  I  thought  that  you  wanted  to  try  that 
wonderful  work,  even  for  a  little  while,  nothing  could 
stop  me  from  attempting  it.  Anyway,  we'll  go  and 
see.  Judd  will  take  us  all  in  the  jolt  wagon  and  .  .  ." 

"Heaven  forbid!"  ejaculated  the  man  with  a  very- 
real  shudder.  "No,  I'll  play  nurse,  and  you  two  go. 
Judd  can  supply  you  with  riding  horses  or — better 
still — mules,  and  I'll  see  the  picture  later  on,  through 
your  sharp  eyes." 

And  so  it  was  arranged. 


CHAPTER  VII 

BEATEN  CREEK 

"WELL?" 

Donald  spoke  impatiently,  and  almost  before  his 
wife  and  Camille  had  got  inside  the  door,  to  which 
they  had  run  between  the  drops  of  a  hasty  spring 
shower,  leaving  Judd  to  lead  off  the  two  mules. 

"Very  well,  indeed.  And  all  the  better  for  seeing 
you  and  Junie  again,"  replied  Rose  as  she 
tossed  her  sweater  aside,  kissed  him  and  caught 
up  the  baby.  The  smile  upon  her  lips  and  the  light- 
ness of  her  words  were  not  reflected  in  her  heart, 
however.  Donald's  irritability  was  increasing,  daily. 

"Thanks."  The  man  got  a  new  grip  on  his  nerves 
and  continued  more  pleasantly.  "But  I'm  like  a 
small  boy  waiting  for  a  promised  story.  Judd's  been 
in  and  helped  me  pass  the  time,  but  the  last  hour  has 
been  an  age  and  I  can't  restrain  my  curiosity  a  min- 
ute longer." 

"Self-restraint  is  good  for  the  soul,  my  little  lad 
Contain  it  you  must,  'til  supper  is  ready — I'm  fam- 
ishing again." 

With  her  little  daughter  still  held  in  one  arm,  and 
a  snatch  of  song  on  her  lips,  Rose  set  about  prepar- 
ing the  evening  meal,  assisted  by  Camille,  and  Don- 
82 


BEATEN  CREEK  83 

aid — acting  the  sulky  child  with  only  part  pretense 
— inched  his  chair  around  until  he  was  back  to  the 
workers  and  facing  the  sunset  picture  framed  by  the 
hand-hewn  door-casing.  The  Master  Artist  had  laid 
the  first  wash  of  light  spring  green  over  the  red- 
brown  of  the  opposite  mountainside  and  here  and 
there  added  brilliant  splashes  of  color — the  massed 
white  of  the  dogwood's  luxuriant  blooms,  the  Red- 
buds'  rich  lavender — and  was  tinting  it  all  anew 
with  the  diffused  golden  glow  of  eventide.  Through 
a  wooded  vista  far  below  came  the  silver  gleam  of 
the  Swift  River's  turbulent  waters — waters  which 
had  made  an  orphan  of  the  baby  Rose  and  given  her 
to  the  mountains.  There  was  a  dart  of  added  color 
as  a  red-winged  blackbird  sped  past,  flying  low  to  its 
nesting  mate  and  then  another  as  a  tiny  Tom  Tit, 
speckled  with  yellow,  followed.  From  the  creek  sound- 
ed the  tuning  up  of  the  frog  orchestra;  from  the 
forest  the  intermittent  roll  of  the  wood  pecker's 
snare  drum,  while  from  beneath  the  sagging  floor  of 
the  little  porch  came,  too,  the  first  inquisitive  chirps 
of  a  friendly  cricket. 

Save  for  these  voices  of  nature  a  soothing  silence 
brooded  over  the  land  without,  and  the  little  home 
resounded  with  a  cheery  domestic  bustle.  Peace 
entered  the  man's  troubled  soul  and  he  was  ready 
with  a  friendly  grin  when  Camille  brought  him  a 
basin  filled  with  soapy  hot  water. 

"Smiles  says  that  you  are  to  'wash  the  mad  off'," 
she  explained. 


84 SMILING  PASS 

The  three  took  their  places  at  the  plain  board  table 
and — still  pretending  to  act  the  part  of  a  spoiled 
child — Donald  began  once  more  to  tease  for  the 
story.  Crippled  and  pain-filled  as  he  was,  he  had 
already  begun,  at  moments  like  these,  to  give  evi- 
dence of  relaxation  from  the  high  tension  under  which 
he  had  labored  with  scarcely  a  break  for  four  years; 
but  they  were  of  brief  duration — mere  oases  in  the 
arid  desert  of  bodily  suffering  and  the  depression 
which  it  produced. 

For  a  little  longer  Rose  let  him  beg,  delighting  in 
his  more  cheerful  mood  and  teasing  him  affection- 
ately. Then  she  said,  "No,  I  shall  not  tell  you  about 
our  adventure.  But  Camille  shall.  I  want  to  hear  her 
impressions,  told  in  her  own  words." 

"No,  no,  Sourisl  I  cannot  tell  them.  It  was  all 
so  new,  so  strange,  that  I  have  not  the  English  words 
to  say  it,"  protested  the  girl,  earnestly. 

"Indeed  you  have.  Come,  begin.  I  promise  to 
help  you  over  the  rough  places." 

"As  you  did  upon  the  road?  Oh,  it  was  more  un- 
pleasant than  the  one  over  which  we  passed  yester- 
day, Donald;  so  full  of  big  holes  and  so  deep  with 
mud  that  it  made  me  to  think  of  the  battlefields 
again — and  I  was  sad.  Twice  I  did  not  quite  fall  off 
the  mule;  I  had  never  ridden  one  before.  But  Rose 
helped  me.  They  were  very  careful,  the  two  patient 
mules,  especially  when  they  stepped  down  into  the 
deep  holes  or  among  the  rocks  of  the  creek-  but  once 
my  mule  slipped,  and  once  he  jumped  to  one  side 


BEATEN  CREEK 85 

when  a  great,  black  snake,  that  was  lying  on  a  rock 
in  the  sun,  went  ssss  at  us.  There  were  many  snakes 
thus.  Ugh,  but  I  do  not  love  them!" 

Donald  glanced  inquiringly  at  his  wife,  who  re- 
plied, "Merely  harmless  water  snakes.  I  think  that 
I  saw  a  dry  land  moccasin — at  least  it  was  just  the 
color  of  the  dust, — but  it  slithered  away  before  I 
could  make  sure." 

The  girl  was  now  quite  ready  to  talk.  In  the  recol- 
lection of  her  novel  experiences  all  her  reticence  had 
vanished  and  a  light  bred  of  excitement  had  been 
bora  in  the  depths  of  her  big  brown  eyes.  Animation 
had  heightened  the  color  in  her  cheeks,  too,  and  Rose 
smiled  meaningly  at  her  husband.  This  was  one  of 
the  rare  moments  when  Camille  was  undeniably 
beautiful. 

"It  was  perhaps  ten  kilometres  that  we  rode  ..." 
she  had  not  yet  learned  to  think  in  English  miles 
.  .  .  "and  all  the  while  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
mountains  grew  steeper — n'est-ce  pas,  Souris?  We 
met  no  one,  for  which  I  was  glad,  for  I  ride  not  well, 
but,  it  was  so  very  beautiful  and  so  wild! 

"At  last  we  came  to  the  houses  again,  but  they 
were  not  placed  near  together,  as  at  home,  nor  were 
there  many  of  them.  And  now,  high,  high  up  on  the 
sides  of  the  steep  hills  were  places  where  the  trees 
had  all  been  cut  down  and  tiny  men  and  women,  too, 
were  working."  She  interrupted  her  description  to 
demand,  "But  why  do  they  not  terrace  the  mountain- 
side, as  we  do?  Does  not  the  earth  slide  down,  then?  " 


86 SMILING  PASS 

"It  certainly  does,"  answered  Donald,  "in  a 
very  few  years  after  the  forests  have  been  cleared 
and  the  retaining  roots  removed,  but  the  mountain- 
eers haven't  yet  learned  the  need  of  conservation. 
Land  is  still  about  the  most  plentiful  thing  that  they 
have — with  the  exception  of  time,  which,  according 
to  their  way  of  thinking,  apparently,  was  primarily 
created  for  loafing  purposes." 

"Donald,  that's  unjust!"  rebuked  Rose,  and  he 
grinned  again. 

"Alors,  we  came  to  the  houses,"  Camille  con- 
tinued. "They  are  very  funny — so  little  and  so 
...  so  primitif.  They  are  what  we,  in  French, 
would  call  'cabanes' ." 

"And  in  English,  too.  Little  cabins,"  interpolated 
the  other. 

"Sometimes  they  were  built  of  board,  like  this 
one,  but  more  times  of  big,  big  .  .  . " 

She  hesitated,  illustrating  with  her  shapely  hands. 

Rose  came  to  her  rescue  with  the  word,  "Logs," 
and  went  on,  "You  couldn't  possibly  find  a  better 
example  of  old-time  construction  than  Humpty 
Kite's  cabin  represents,  Don.  I  asked  him  about  it 
and  he  said  that  it  cost  in  money  just  a  little  over 
two  dollars — the  price  of  the  few  nails  used  to  put 
on  the  handmade  shingles.  The  logs  are  notched 
and  fitted  together,  and  wooden  pegs  used  every- 
where else.  Excuse  me  for  interrupting,  dear." 

"Yes,  it  is  like  that;  and  the  openings  between  the 
...  the  logs  are  filled  up  with  gray  mud  made 


BEATEN  CREEK  87 

hard  by  the  sun  and  sometimes,  where  the  mud  has 
fallen  out,  leaving  holes,  the  people  have  put  in  old 
rags.  Oh,  it  was  all  so  different  from  our  little  stone 
villages,  except  for  one  thing;  there  were  a  great 
many  cows  and  chickens  and  big  mother  pigs  with 
their  little  pink  .  .  .  pink  piglets,  running  every- 
where. And  then  there  were  many,  many  poor  little 
children,  who  ran  into  their  cabins  as  we  passed; 
'though  why  should  they  have  been  afraid?  These, 
too,  made  me  sad,  for  they  made  me  to  think  of 
nos  enfants  refuges — so  thin  they  were,  with  almost 
no  clothes  at  all,  Donald. 

"Alors,  as  we  arrived  the  strange  and  bent  old 
man  came  to  meet  us  and  with  him  a  pleasant  little 
boy  who  smiled;  but  his  eyes  went  .  .  .  comme 
qa!"  She  made  an  acute  angle  with  her  two  fore- 
fingers. "They  had  been  making  a  new  field  far  up 
on  the  mountain — we  could  hear  a  big  tree  come 
crashing  and  sliding  down  as  we  rode  up — some- 
times running,  sometimes  slipping,  they  came  and 
took  us  into  then:  'ome." 

The  girl's  eyes  grew  larger  still  as  she  viewed 
again  the  scene  which  had  been  vividly  imprinted 
upon  her  memory.  She  drew  up  her  shoulders  with 
a  little  shudder  and — for  a  few  words — lapsed  into 
her  mother  tongue  for  the  fuller  expression  of  her 
feelings. 

"Mon  dieu,  Jest  terrible-qa!  Quel  dommage!  Mais 
il  fait  sale!  Oh,  it  was  so  dark,  so  dirty,  Don.  So 
.  .  .  how  shall  I  say  it?  There  is  but  one  small 


88 SMILING  PASS 

room,  no  bigger  than  this;  of  floor  there  is  none  ex- 
cept the  hard  dirt;  and  it  has  but  the  one  door  and  of 
windows  not  at  all.  Voila,  here  is  a  fireplace  where 
they  cook  as  in  the  olden  days,  and  there  two  broad 
wooden  beds,  with  mattresses  so  rough  ..." 

Rose  broke  in  a  third  time  with  the  explanatory 
words, "  Filled  with  straw  and  corn  husks.  You  know." 

"You  bet  I  do — corn  husks,  straw  and  ...  a 
multitude  of  other  things.  Ugh!" 

"Yes,  it  is  so.  And  over  them  only  a  few,  oh,  so 
dirty  and  rumpled  coverings — 'kiverlids',  the  Ma- 
dame called  them.  And  it  is  there  that  sleep  the  whole 
family;  the  mama  and  papa  and  eight  children.  I 
could  scarcely  stay  in  the  room !  So  dirty  it  was  that 
I  wished  to  run  quickly  to  the  creek  for  buckets  of 
water  to  clean  it,  so!"  She  went  through  a  brief 
pantomine  of  splashing  walls  and  floor  vigorously, 
whereupon  Donald  laughed  and  lifted  his  sound  leg 
out  of  the  imaginary  flood. 

"And  the  poor  little  ones  who  clung  to  their 
mother's  skirt!  So  pale  and  thin  they  are,  with  eyes 
so  red  and  weak!" 

"Trachoma,  of  course,"  exclaimed  the  doctor. 

"Half -blind  with  it,  every  one  of  them — poor 
kiddies,"  Rose  answered.  "I  could  not  help  wish' 
that  our  Dr.  Hunter  had  been  along  to  treat  them 
immediately — I  wanted  to,  but  I  succeeded  in  keep- 
ing my  distance."  She  smiled  tenderly  down  into  the 
cradle  by  her  side,  out  of  which  her  own  baby's  eyes 
looked  up  as  clear  and  blue  as  the  sky  at  midsummer. 


BEATEN  CREEK 89 

"Such  a  maison  miserable  it  is!  But  the  'umpty 
man  and  his  wife  were  very  kind.  She  wished  us  to 
eat  of  the  corn  bread  which  she  had  been  baking  in 
the  ashes,  but  we  were  not  'ungry,"  Camille  contin- 
ued, and  Donald  laughed,  "I  should  'ope  not!"  When 
the  girl  became  excited  she  always  had  difficulty 
with  the  aspirated  "h." 

"Oh,  I  must  tell  you  of  this.  It  was  while  we  were 
talking  that  I  heard  the  sound  of  a  rifle,  bang,  bang, 
bang!  For  just  a  moment  my  heart  was  here  ..." 
Camille  expressively  clasped  her  throat  with  both 
hands.  "...  for  it  made  me  to  think  of  the  war 
again.  But  this  time  it  was  not  the  Boche.  No,  it 
was  a  woman  who  lives  on  the  side  of  the  other  hill. 
We  ran  to  the  door  and  saw  her.  Very  old  she  looked, 
and  her  stringy  white  hair  and  not-so-white  feet  were 
bare.  She  was  shooting  down  at  the  ground  beneath 
the  .  .  .  the  .  .  .  What  do  you  call  them?  Hoofs? 
.  .  .  the  hoofs  of  a  little  mule  on  which  rode  a 
very  ragged  boy.  The  mule  jumped,  so,  and  the  boy 
nearly  fell  from  it,  but  not  quite,  for  he  seized  it 
with  both  arms  about  the  neck  and  held  tight  as  it 
ran  away,  while  the  old  woman  laughed,  'ha,  ha,  ha'." 

"For  heaven's  sake,"  began  Donald.  "What 
.  .  .  ?" 

"It  was  only  Aunt  Lissy  Triplett — the  local  witch 
and  'yarb'  doctor — amusing  herself,"  explained 
Rose.  "She's  a  character  for  you,  Don.  I  had  entire- 
ly forgotten  about  her,  but  when  Humpty  took  us 
over  later  and  introduced  us  I  remembered  that 


90 SMILING  PASS 

grandpap  once  took  me  over  to  Beaten  behind  him 
on  our  old  horse  to  see  her  and  have  her  tell  my  for- 
tune, when  I  was  a  little  girl.  When  it  all  came  back 
to  me — you  know  how  memory  is  sometimes  awak- 
ened by  the  sight  of  a  place  seen  before — I  was  al- 
most frightened,  for,  in  telling  my  fortune,  she  had 
come  so  close  to  what  has  actually  occurred  in  my 
life — the  going  to  a  big  city,  marrying  a  'great'  man 
and  crossing  the  water  to  another  'island.'  To  these 
mountain  people  every  country  is  an  island,  Camille 
— even  America.  Oddly  enough,  she  remembered 
and  placed  me  at  once.  Philip  would  be  wild  over 
Aunt  Lissy." 

"But  what  was  the  bombardment  for,  I  should 
like  to  know?  "  demanded  her  husband. 

"Mere  deviltry,  or  her  idea  of  a  joke.  It  seems 
that  the  boy  is  her  sister  Phroney's  son,  Noey — Noah, 
I  mean — and  Hite  said  that  the  two  women  hate 
each  other  like  'p'ison'  and  that  Lissy  shoots  under 
Noey's  feet  almost  every  time  he  passes  her  cabin. 
Nobody  thinks  anything  about  it,  for  she  is  a  crack 
shot,  despite  her  sex  and  years." 

"Well,  my  child,  you've  certainly  had  some  novel 
experiences  this  afternoon.  'But  what  good  came 
of  it  at  last,  quoth  little  Peterkin'?  " 

"Smiles,  please  you  tell  him.  I  cannot;  it  is  so 
difficult/'  cried  the  girl. 

"Very  well,  I'll  take  up  the  story  now,  if  you  wish. 
But  you've  done  wonderfully.  Hasn't  she,  Donald?  " 

"Indeed,  yes.     A  well-told  tale  and  a  charming 


BEATEN  CREEK 91 

teller.  By  way  of  reward  you  may  hold  the  baby 
for  a  while.  I  see  that  she's  beginning  to  fret  and 
her  mother  will  need  her  hands  in  order  to  talk — • 
you  will,  Rose.  You've  become  about  as  'Frenchy' 
as  Camille." 

"Hite  is  a  natural  born  general  and  he  has  a  fine 
sense  of  the  dramatic,  despite  his  lack  of  'book- 
larnin',  "  began  Smiles.  "He  led  us  immediately  to 
what  purports  to  be  the  county  school  house.  It  is 
simply  a  cabin,  so  far  gone  in  senility  that  it  has 
become  uninhabitable  as  a  dwelling — and  you  can 
draw  your  own  conclusions  as  to  what  a  state  it 
must  be  in.  Poles,  stuck  up  every-which-way,  support 
the  sagging  roof;  the  floor  is  of  dirt — and  dirty; 
there  is  no  glass  in  the  windows,  because — as  the 
walrus  might  have  remarked  to  the  carpenter — 
there  are  no  windows.  The  desks  are  rough  benches; 
the  chairs,  tree-trunkc. 

"Just  as  we  reached  the  door  a  pig  came  squeal- 
ing and  scurrying  out,  pursued  by  a  primer  thrown 
with  more  force  than  accuracy,  and  our  entrance 
was  greeted  by  the  exclamation,  'Thar  hit  comes 
again.  Git  hit  aout!'  uttered  by  a  cadaverous-ap- 
pearing youth  seated  at  the  teacher's  desk.  It  was 
the  teacher;  and  it  seems  that  he's  so  nearly  blind, 
from  trachoma,  that  he  can't  see  beyond  the  first 
row  of  children.  By  way  of  apology  he  explained 
that  many  of  the  pupils  came  from  a  distance  too 
great  to  permit  of  their  returning  home  for  lunch, 
and  they  bring  cans  of  milk  with  them,  which  they 


92 SMILING  PASS 

leave  standing  against  the  back  wall.  The  neigh- 
borhood pigs — canny  brutes — have  discovered  this 
fact,  and  raid  the  place  at  every  opportunity  to  tip 
the  pails  over  and  lap  up  the  luscious  lacteal  fluid." 

She  paused  for  breath  and  Donald  cried,  "Now, 
Rose!  I  know  that  you  want  to  make  a  good  story 
• — and  I  like  to  hear  one;  but  please  remember  that 
my  university's  motto  is  'Veritas,'  and  have  a  little 
regard  for  ...  " 

"But  it  is  the  truth — whole  and  nothing  but. 
Isn't  it,  Camille?" 

The  girl  nodded  in  confirmation  and  Donald 
roared. 

"  Imagine  the  immaculate  Margaret  teaching  ethics 
in  a  setting  like  that!" 

"I  asked  the  nineteen-year  teacher,  Joel  Fugate, 
why  they  didn't  have  a  fence  about  the  place  to  keep 
them  out  and  'he  allowed'  that  there  had  been  one 
there,  last  fall,  but  that  it  had  all  been  burned  for 
fuel  during  the  winter  months,"  added  Rose. 

"Of  course.  It's  ever  so  much  eaiser  to  run  out 
and  get  a  paling  to  break  up  than  to  provide  a  real 
supply  of  wood.  Anything  more  condemnatory?" 

"Yes,  your  honor.  And  having  dramatic  instincts 
myself,  I've  saved  the  most  incredible  for  the  climax. 
Remember  that  heavy  black  cloud  and  hasty  shower 
which  came  up  about  three  o'clock?  Well,  we  were 
in  the  schoolhouse  at  the  time  and  ..." 

"And  it  leaked,"  suggested  Donald,  innocently. 

"It  did,  smarty.  The  water  came  through  the  roof 


BEATEN  CREEK 93 

in  buckets'  full,  but  that  isn't  what  I  was  about  to 
say.  Joel  promptly  closed  the  session  and  drove  his 
little  flock  out  doors" 

"So  that  they  could  all  get  a  good  bath,  probably." 

"Don,  you're  incorrigible  to-night!"  cried  his 
wife  and  added  under  her  breath,  "Thank  God." 
Aloud,  she  went  on,  "No,  it  was  to  keep  them  from 
getting  drowned!  The  building  is  below  the  level  of 
the  creek  at  highwater  mark  and,  although  it  is  early 
for  cloudbursts,  he  was  taking  no  chances  of  having 
any  little  tot  whom  he  couldn't  see  in  the  darkness 
hide  in  there  and  get  caught.  You  know  how  quickly 
a  cloudburst  brings  a  'high  tide,'  as  they  call  it,  in 
these  creeks." 

"Verdict  for  the  plain  tiff.  When  do  we  start 
Humpty's  new  school?" 

"Don't  joke,  dear.  This  is  an  awfully  serious  mat- 
ter and  I  want  to  discuss  it  seriously  with  you." 

"Pshaw!  You  know  that  your  mind  is  already 
made  up  to  move  over  to  Beaten  and  make  Kite's 
prophecy  come  true.  And  you  likewise  know  that 
if  your  arguments  should  fail  to  convince  me  of  the 
wisdom  of  your  plan  you  can  wheedle  me  into  agree- 
ing,— now  don't  you?" 

"Donald  MacDonald!"  Rose  went  around  the 
table  and  seated  herself  upon  the  broad  arm  of  his 
chair,  from  which  vantage  point  she  first  pulled  the 
silvery  lock  over  one  temple  and  then  kissed  it.  "I 
believe  that  you  really  want  to  do  it,"  she  exclaimed. 

"/?  Want  to?  What  has  a  helpless  cripple  like 
myself  to  do  with  it?" 


94 SMILING  PASS 

"As  though  it  could  be  done  without  your  whole- 
souled  aid  and  abetting!  Oh,  I  don't  mean  with 
money — it  wouldn't  cost  us  much,  at  least  not  to 
start  with — but  in  every  way.  And  it  would  help  to 
take  up  your  mind." 

"Hmmm;  maybe.  We're  going  pretty  fast.  That 
which  is  is  pretty  bad,  apparently,  but  what  have  you 
and  your  friend  Humpty  Kite  to  offer,  remedially?  " 

"He,  something  concrete;  a  strip  of  his  impover- 
ished but  still  picturesque  acres.  Oh,  I  wish  that  you 
might  have  seen  it  with  us.  You  don't  have  much 
to  say  about  the  beautiful,  but  I  know  you  love  it. 
And  how  you  would  love  that  spot — it's  even  pret- 
tier than  here!" 

"Heresy!" 

"No,  'honesty.'  There's  a  little  hollow  in  the 
mountain's  side — just  the  spot  for  a  home  to  nestle 
in.  And  above  it,  from  a  frowning  rocky  fortress, 
which  crowns  the  summit  as  though  placed  there 
especially  to  watch  over  and  protect  the  valley,  a 
forest  army  comes  marching  down  between  two 
man-made  clearings,  in  solid  phalanxes.  You  know 
how  conglomerate  the  growth  is  in  these  mountains, 
and  there  are  regiments  of  chestnut,  walnut  and  ash, 
with  tall  pine  and  poplar  officers;  companies  of 
birch  and  buck-eye,  in  charge  of  silver  maple  captains 
and 'sugar  tree' lieutenants  ..." 

"With  sourwood  bushes  for  second  looeys,"  grin- 
ned Donald. 

"  Stop  making  fun,  or  I'll  have  my  army  fall 


BEATEN  CREEK  95 

you  and  crush  you.  Now  I'm  going  to  finish  my  fan- 
ciful description  just  out  of  spite.  There  are  squads 
of  elms,  red  and  white  ..." 

"With  mascot  dogwoods  running  about  every- 
where! I  suppose  that  in  a  minute  you'll  be  telling 
me  that  they  are  all  'leaving'  because  there  has  been 
a  'forward  March'."  He  ducked  to  avoid  her  threat- 
ened assault  and  she  cried,  "of  all  atrocious  puns! 
I  had  intended  to  tell  you  about  the  wonderful  com- 
manding Sycamore  in  his  silvery-white  coat  and 
brown  trousers  in  front  of  them  and  just  where  our 
new  home  is  going  to  be.  ... " 

"There,  you  see!"  he  interrupted  again,  but  she 
ignored  him  and  continued  "...  but  I  won't, 
now.  Oh,  yes.  And  there's  a  little  courier  brooklet 
leaping  down  the  hillside  to  mingle  its  crystal-clear 
waters  with  the  muddy  creek." 

"Very  poor  taste,  /  should  call  it,"  exclaimed 
Donald.  "Apparently  'every  prospect  pleases  and 
only  man  is  vile'." 

"The  last  part  of  the  quotation  isn't  true  but  the 
first  is.  Oh,  Philip  will  adore  the  spot  when  he  comes 
to  spend  his  promised  vacation  with  us." 

"And  how  about  Hunter,  if  he  comes  to  work,  as 
he  promised?" 

"He'll  love  it,  too.  There  may  not  be  a  particle 
of  the  artistic  in  his  make-up,  but  the  ruggedness  of 
the  mountains  will  appeal  to  him.  Somehow  he 
seems  like  them — rugged  and  stern,  but  kindly  at 
heart." 


96 SMILING  PASS 

"Are  they?" 

"Of  course.  They  make  the  climate  equitable, 
their  air  is  pure  and  health-giving,  their  slopes  sup- 
ply timber,  their  mines  coal  and  .  .  . " 

"Their  rocky  fastnesses  produce  moonshine  'that 
maketh  glad  the  heart  of  man'.  Your  point  is  proven. 
And  now  what  have  you  to  offer?" 

"Just  a  hope — the  hope  of  building  a  new  little 
home  there,  and  a  little  school-hospital,  founded  on 
faith  and  charity;  one  which  will  be  like  a  new  heart 
for  these  hills,  sending  out  health  streams  to  revivify 
a  failing  race,  and  a  new  mind  giving  light  to  those 
who  now  dwell  in  the  shadow." 

"The  young  shall  see  visions,"  said  her  husband, 
inwardly  stirred,  yet  smiling  at  her  eagerness.  And 
she  retorted,  "Well,  if  you  will  insist  upon  consider- 
ing yourself  a  Methuselah,  remember  that  Joel  added, 
',  'and  the  old  men  shall  dream  dreams'.  Come,  please 
join  me  in  my  dream  of  a  new  little  city  set  upon  a 
hill — where  it  cannot  be  hid  and  shall  be  like  a  can- 
•  die  in  a  candlestick  giving  light  to  those  that  be  in 
darkness." 

"The  idea  is  attractive,  although  the  metaphor  is 
slightly  mixed.  But  don't  let  your  enthusiasm  make 
you  lose  sight  of  the  fact  that  grafting  a  new  heart 
onto  a  diseased  body  is  a  delicate  surgical  operation, 
to  say  the  least." 

"It  can't  be  done." 

Judd  uttered  the  chilling  words  from  the  doorway. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

VIRGIL 

"IT  can!"    retorted  Rose  with  spirit. 

"Hello,  Judd.  So  you've  overheard  the  dreamer's 
dream?"  Donald  inquired,  as  the  tall  mountaineer 
slouched  into  the  room,  hands  in  pockets. 

"Some  uv  hit.  Been  listenin'  aout  on  the  porch 
fer  a  couple  uv  minutes." 

"  Eavesdropper !" 

At  the  mock  scorn  in  the  woman's  voice  Judd 
grinned,  tolerantly,  replying,  "Well,  the  door  was 
open.  Anyhow,  I  knowed  hit,  hours  ago." 

"The  deuce  you  did!"   exclaimed  Donald. 

"I  reckon.  Soon  as  Humpty  Hite  told  me  what 
he'd  cum  up  hyar  fer  this  mornin',  and  she  borrowed 
my  mule  tew  ride  up  thar,  this  evenin',  I  knowed 
thet  she  was  a  gonner."  He  paused;  then  added  the 
apparently  irrelevant  remark,  "I  set  a  price  on  my 
store  this  evenin' — Ira  Combs  hes  been  pesterin'  me 
tew,  fer  quite  a  while  back." 

"You  did?  Why,  Juddy?  I  thought  that  you  were 
doing  a  very  profitable  business,"  said  Rose. 

"Business  haint  too  bad.  But  you-all  air  goin' 
tew  need  someone  tew  look  after  you  up  thar — 
97 


SMILING  PASS 


somebody  that  can  hop  around  right  smart,  which 
Don  haint  a-doin'  at  present." 

The  doctor  winced,  but  managed  to  smile  wryly, 
while  his  wife  cried,  "Judd  Amos!  You  don't  mean 
to  say  that  if  we  move,  you  .  .  .  ?  " 

"Reckon  I  dew.  Me  and  Mandy  hev  talked  hit 
'over  and  when  Lou  allaowed  thet  ef  you  went  she 
would,  thet  settled  hit.  Whar  she  goes  /  goes." 

"But  what  on  earth  would  you  do,  up  on  Beaten?" 
Rose  was  both  deeply  touched  and  distressed  by  his 
disclosure.  Stubborn  he  might  be,  and  crude,  but 
he  still  had  the  fidelity  of  a  watchdog  for  her. 

"Haint  decided.  May  start  another  store — thar's 
none  over  on  thet  creek.  I'm  tellin'  you,'  though, 
thet  ef  you  do  go  you'll  be  makin'  one  great  big  mis- 
take— thar's  no  question  about  hit.  Hit's  wastin'  both 
time  and  money,  tryin'  tew  help  that  Beaten  Creek 
bunch.  Better  stay  hyar.  We  haint  plum  energetic 
aourselves;  but  they're  '  dead  and  buried — shiftless, 
lazy  and  bad  actors,  who  are  satisfied  tew  stay  in 
Beaten  and  stay  beaten.  They  don't  want  tew  be 
helped,  particularly  not  by  no  'furriners' — I'm  tel- 
lin' you.  Why,  they  druv  the  last  missionary  thet 
tried  hit  ofFn  the  folk  with  rifles.  Reckon  he's  headed 
North  and  runnin'  yet."  The  speaker  grinned  in 
recollection. 

"Humpty  Hite  isn't  like  that.  He  may  have  been 
pushed  pretty  far  down  by  circumstances,  but  he  is 
reaching  out  for  hands  to  help  him  and  his  children 
up,"  insisted  Rose. 


VIRGIL  99 


"Maybe.  My  idea  is  thet  he's  lookin  fer  some- 
thing soft — like  a  hog  fer  a  mudhole.  P'raps  I'm 
wrong  abaout  him,  but  the  rest'll  kick  like  fiesty 
mules,  ef  you  try  tew  drive  'em." 

"So  did  you,  once,  when  Donald  and  I  wanted  to 
help  you  against  your  will.  You  were  glad  enough 
afterwards,"  she  flashed. 

Their  visitor  fell  silent  for  a  moment  and  into  his 
thin,  hard  face  crept  an  expression  which  bespoke 
painful  memories. 

"I'm  sorry  I  mentioned  that,  Juddy,"  repented 
Rose,  laying  her  hand  gently  on  one  of  his  gnarled 
ones  for  an  instant. 

Donald  coughed.  "Have  a  cigar,  old  man?"  he 
asked. 

"Thanks,  but  I  quit  smokin'  a  while  back.  Started 
tew  chew  a  little  jest  tew  ease  myself  off — and  haint 
stopped  yet,"  he  added,  with  a  shame-faced  look 
towards  his  hostess.  "Well,  I  allaows  I  was  wrong 
thet  time  and  I  may  be  this,  but  .  .  . " 

"Good-evening,  folks." 

The  words,  accompanied  by  a  knock  on  the  open 
door,  were  uttered  with  a  suggestion  of  hesitancy  in 
a  manly  young  voice.  All  save  Camille  looked  around 
from  their  places  before  the  fire,  whither  they  had 
moved,  for  the  evening  air  had  become  somewhat 
chill.  The  girl  was  still  engaged  in  clearing  away  the 
supper  dishes  by  the  wavering  light  of  the  resinous 
pinewood  blaze. 

Framed  in   the  narrow  doorway,   with   the  soft 


100 SMILING  PASS 

night  shadows  as  a  background,  stood  a  tall,  virile 
young  form — that  of  the  youth  who  had  lent  his 
timely  aid  at  the  Fayville  station.  He  had  removed 
his  slouch  hat  and  his  face  was  more  clearly  discer- 
nible; a  countenance  well-favored  and  manly,  it  was 
of  the  purest  Anglo-Saxon  type.  Above  a  brow  both 
broad  and  high,  a  shock  of  hair,  light  brown  and 
somewhat  wavy,  was  carelessly  brushed  back;  from 
beneath  it  shone  two  gray-blue  eyes  of  the  type  which 
can  express,  unaided,  every  emotion  from  flashing 
anger  to  merriment.  His  nose  was  straight  and 
shapely,  but  large  enough  both  to  show  strength  of 
character  and  to  supply  an  excellent  pair  of  lungs 
— if  depth  of  chest  meant  anything — with  mountain 
air;  and  his  somewhat  broad  mouth  and  chin,  slightly 
cleft,  alike  bore  out  the  impression  of  firmness.  Now 
a  propitiatory  little  smile,  which  partially  displayed 
his  even,  white  teeth,  made  his  look  one  of  joyous, 
'though  earnest,  youth.  As  for  his  well-framed, 
muscular  body,  it  was  still  clad  in  riding  clothes 
which,  save  for  an  inexpensive  and  serviceable  coat 
of  civilian  cut,  had  obviously  once  seen  service  in  the 
army.  A  starred  silver  button  in  his  lapel  told  the 
same  story — and  more. 

"Why,  I  believe  that  it's  our  knight  of  the  wheel!" 
exclaimed  Rose,  with  pleasure  in  her  voice.  "Don't 
hesitate.  I'm  sure  that  we're  all  pleased  to  see  you 
again." 

Still,  hesitate  a  little  he  did,  with  his  expression 
changing  to  uncertainty,  and  womanly  intuition 


VIRGIL  101 


told  her  that  the  alteration  was  the  result  of  Judd's 
voice,  speaking  from  behind  her  and  seconding  her 
invitation  to  enter.  The  words  were  hospitable 
enough  but  the  tone  in  which  they  were  spoken 
seemed  cold,  if  not  actually  hostile. 

As  she  turned,  with  a  question  in  her  eyes,  Judd 
stood  up,  saying,  "Well,  I  reckon,  I'll  be  gettin* 
along." 

"No.  Sit  down  again,  Judd,  the  evening's  young," 
she  commanded,  and  he  answered,  "Kain't.  I  haint 
much  uv  a  night-hawk,  naow  a-days.  You-all  come 
on  daown  with  me.  No,  I  don't  guess  thet  you  can. 
Well,  see  you  to-morrow."  He  put  on  his  hat,  walked 
to  the  door  and  out  into  the  night. 

"If  that  isn't  just  like  Judd  Amos!"  Rose  spoke 
with  a  suggestion  of  exasperation. 

"He  took  his  departure  in  just  the  same  manner 
the  first  time  that  I  met  him,"  laughed  Donald,  but 
the  new-comer  regretfully  remarked  that  perhaps 
his  arrival  was  the  cause. 

"Why  should  it  have  been,  Mr.  .  .  .  I'm  sorry, 
but,  although  Judd  told  us  your  name  yesterday, 
I've  forgotten  it,"  apologized  the  woman. 

"I'm  Virgil  Gayheart,  ma'am.  And  I  know  that 
this  is  Dr.  MacDonald  and  that  you  were  'Smiles* 
Webb.  You  see,  I  used  to  come  over  here  to  the 
school,  ten  or  twelve  years  ago — you  even  taught 
me  for  a  few  days,  although  you  were  only  a  little 
older  than  I,  yourself." 

"Why,  of  course  I  remember,  now — you  almost 


102  SMILING  PASS 

always  had  a  tiny  garter  snake  or  a  lizard  in  your 
pocket.  Do  you  remember  the  time  that  you  told 
me,  with  the  utmost  seriousness,  that  on  the  way 
over  the  mountain  you  had  seen  two  wood  snakes 
which  had  each  other  by  the  tail  and  kept  swallowing 
until  both  had  completely  disappeared?  " 

"Come  over  here  and  let  me  shake  the  hand  of  the 
youthful  Baron  Munchausen,"  laughed  Donald,  and 
when  the  smiling  youth  obeyed  he  called,  "Camille, 
come  out  of  that  corner  and  be  properly  introduced 
to  our  twentieth  century  Sir  Walter  Raleigh.  This 
is  our  little  Belgian  ward  and  almost  daughter — 
Mile.  Camille  Laporte,  Mr.  Gayheart." 

The  girl,  who  had  been  standing  silently  in  the 
shadows  with  a  thick  crockery  cup  poised  over  the 
dishpan,  now  came  shyly  forward,  blushing  with  em- 
barrassment. The  long  dark  lashes  concealed  her 
eyes  as  she  hesitatingly  held  out  the  unoccupied 
hand  and  said  in  a  low,  hurried  voice,  "Je  suis  char  me  e 
de  faire  wire  connaissance,  Monsieur." 

"Pas  de  quoi,  mademoiselle.  No,  that  isn't  right — 
A  wire  service — O  Lord,  that's  wrong,  too."  He  was 
now  stammering  and  flushing  as  deeply  as  she.  Both 
Rose  and  Donald  laughed  and  the  latter  said  heartily, 
"Let  it  go  at  that;  the  intention  is  what  counts. 
Er  .  .  .by  the  way,  Camille  can  speak  perfect 
English,  when  she  likes." 

"Mais,  non,  Donald!  I  speak  it  very  badly." 

"You  see?"  The  two  younger  people  joined  in  the 
laughter,  shook  hands  with  the  warmth  bred  of  mutual 


VIRGIL  103 


sympathy  and  Virgil  accepted  the  chair  which  the  girl 
moved  forward.  There  followed  a  moment  or  two  of 
general  conversation  in  the  course  of  which  they  learned 
that  he  still  lived  at  Rattlesnake  on  the  road  to  Beat- 
en Creek.  Then  Rose  suddenly  inquired,  "Why  did 
you  hint  that  your  arrival  drove  Judd  away,  Virgil?" 

"I  shouldn't  have  done  so — perhaps  it  was  not 
true  in  the  least,  but  .  .  .  Well,  the  fact  is,  as  you 
may  remember,  that  one  of  my  older  brothers  shot 
Judd's  father,  Oh,  I  reckon  that  it  must  have  been 
ten  or  twelve  years  ago." 

Camille  uttered  a  startled  little  exclamation. 

"Of  course  I  remember,  now,"  Rose  responded. 
"Why,  the  very  night  that  it  happened  I  was  over 
at  the  Amos'  cabin  taking  care  of  baby  Lou,  and  saw 
them  bring '  Big  Judd '  home — It  was  '  Big  Juddy'  and 
'little  Judd',  then.  Your  brother — wasn't  his  name 
Joel? — couldn't  have  been  more  than  a  boy  ..." 

"He  was  fifteen,"  interpolated  Virgil. 

"But  they  got  into  some  sort  of  a  quarrel  after 
drinking  moonshine  together  up  at  the  still  hidden 
in  the  rocky  hollow  on  top  of  the  mountain — you 
know  the  spot,  Donald."  Rose  shuddered  a  little. 
She  had  never  been  able  fully  to  banish  the  haunting 
memory  of  that  moment  when  she  had  parted  the 
curtain  of  bushes  and,  for  the  only  time  in  her  life, 
seen  two  strong  men — Judd  and  the  man  who  was 
to  become  her  husband — in  fierce  animal  combat. 

"It  was  the  first  time  I  had  ever  witnessed  death. 
I  shall  never  forget  the  expression  of  anguish  and 


104 SMILING  PASS 

hatred  on  the  wounded  man's  face  as  he  lay  on  the 
rude  litter  of  boughs,  nor  the  look  on  Judd's  as  he 
swore  to  'get'  Joel  Gayheart,  some  day.  I  cried  and 
clung  to  him,  begging  him  not  to  start  another  feud, 
and  he  wouldn't  listen.  Oh,  that  was  an  awful  night! 
Joel  was  never  caught,  was  he,  Virgie?" 

"No.  He  might  have  been  freed,  for  the  others 
said  he  shot  in  self-defense,  but  he  turned  outlaw 
and  finally  disappeared  altogether." 

"I'm  glad.  But  think  of  it,  Don!  A  lad  of  fifteen 
— just  the  age  when  city  boys  are  hardly  more 
than  into  long  trousers  and  High  School — an  out- 
law, living  the  life  of  a  hunted  animal  in  some 
rocky  cave  on  top  of  these  mountains.  Yet  here  it 
has  happened  time  and  again." 

"And  is  still  happening,  Mrs.  MacDonald,"  added 
their  visitor,  and  she  interrupted  to  say,  "Call  me 
'Rose',  if  you  like,  Virgie.  It's  the  mountain  way 
and  I'm  mountaineer  again." 

"Thank  you,  I  should  like  to — for  I  hope  to  be 
really  the  friend  of  ...  of  all  of  you,  while  you're 
here,"  he  answered,  and  the  doctor  said,  "Good, 
then  make  it  'Donald'  and  'Camille'  as  well." 

Virgil  smiled  quickly  toward  the  girl  who  had  taken 
her  place  in  the  semi-circle  before  the  fire  and  was 
sitting,  silent  and  enthralled.  "What  I  was  going  to 
say  is  that  Judd's  other  brother,  Bud,  and  his  boy, 
Mai  vary,  have  been  hiding  somewhere  up  Beaten 
way,  for  months,  and  Mally  is  only  about  sixteen." 

"Yes,  Judd  told  me;  I'm  terribly  sorry,"  the  wo- 


VIRGIL  105 


man  replied.  "I  never  cared  especially  for  Bud,  but 
Mally  was  a  bright,  likable  and  handsome  little  boy, 
as  I  remember  him,  and  the  thought  of  him,  an 
outlaw,  hurts.  More  moonshining,  wasn't  it?" 

Virgil  nodded  in  affirmation. 

"A  band  of  them  had  a  flourishing  still  and  were 
doing  a  regular  wholesale  and  retail  business  in  corn 
whiskey." 

"Retail?"  interrupted  Donald,  interrogatorily. 

"Yes,  sir.  I  never  tried  it  out  myself — hate  the 
stuff — but  it  was  common  knowledge,  hereabouts, 
that  if  you  were  to  go  up  there  with  a  'little  brown 
jug'  and  leave  it,  with  a  certain  amount  of  money 
on  a  certain  flat  rock,  at  the  same  time  ringing  a  little 
bell  hidden  in  a  crevice,  you  could  come  back  in  an 
hour  or  so  and  find  the  money  gone  and  the  jug 
mysteriously  full  of  moonshine." 

"Some  system!"  laughed  the  older  man,  and  his 
wife  cried,  "Don't,  Don.  It's  a  long  way  from  being 
a  laughing  matter.  Moonshining  has  brought  a  curse 
upon  these  hills — it  kills  souls  and  wills  and  often 
leads  to  the  killing  of  men,  as  well.  We'll  never  pros- 
per until  it  is  stamped,  or  educated,  out  of  the  moun- 
tain men." 

"But  is  it  really  being  carried  on  as  much  now  as 
it  was  before  prohibition  was  put  into  .  .  .  well, 
perhaps  not  'effect'  but  in  the  form  of  a  National 
edict?" 

"As  much?  Twice — yes,  ten  times  more,  sir,"  re- 
sponded Virgil.  "  The  marshals  and  sheriffs  are  doing 


106 SMILING  PASS 

their  da  ...  their  best,  in  most  cases;  but  for  every 
still  they  destroy  two  new  ones  spring  up.  There's 
good  reason.  A  bushel  of  corn  that  sells  for  one  hun- 
dred and  fifty  cents  here,  will  make  three  gallons  of 
illicit  whiskey  for  which  they  sometimes  get  as  much 
as  one  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Convictions  won't 
stop  'em  except  temporarily,  and  they  are  hard 
to  obtain  unless  a  man  is  actually  caught  with 
the  goods,  for,  if  the  people  who  are  summoned  as 
witnesses  are  not  engaged  in  the  business  them- 
selves they  have  relatives  or  neighbors  who  are,  and 
are  naturally  afraid  to  peach.  Most  of  them  drink 
the  stuff,  too,  and  know  that,  if  moonshining  is 
stopped,  their  supply  stops,  too." 

"It's  terrible!"    exclaimed  Rose. 

"It  certainly  is,"  her  husband  agreed,  willfully 
misinterpreting  her  thought.  "I  drank  some,  once, 
and  once  was  enough.  Phaugh!  Unpleasantly  fla- 
vored, liquid  fire!" 

"  Judd  .  .  .  Judd  wasn't  mixed  up  in  it,  was  he?  " 
There  was  a  sudden  sinking  in  Rose's  heart.  If  the 
practice  were  so  general,  and  the  reward  so  great, 
might  he  not  have  broken  his  youthful  promise  to 
her? 

"No'm.  He's  made  a  lot  of  enemies  in  this  county 
by  being  dead  set  against  it.  Some  folks  even  said  he'd 
tip  the  officers  off  to  his  own  brother's  still,  out  I  don't 
reckon  anybody  really  believes  that.  They  say,  now 
that  he  knows  where  Bud  and  Mally  are  hiding,  and 
smuggles  stuff  up  to  'em  from  his  store.  Nobody 


VIRGIL  107 


blames  him;  they're  wanted  only  as  accessories,  for 
the  men  who  did  the  shooting  are  in  the  pen,  now." 

"I'm  glad  of  that,"  interrupted  Rose. 

"Yes'm.  Folks  can  talk  all  they  want  about  'per- 
sonal rights ' ;  but  moonshining,  whether  it's  here  or  in 
the  cities,  is  un-American.  It's  plumb  against  the  law." 

"Of  course  it  is,  Virgil." 

Donald  smiled  with  amusement  at  his  wife's  em- 
phatic tone,  but  the  other  went  on,  as  if  apologetic 
for  his  outburst,  "I  guess  there's  some  excuse  for  us 
mountaineers,  though;  America  doesn't  mean  much 
to  most  of  us.  People  in  the  cities  are  putting  up  a 
big  holler  about  'Americanizing'  the  immigrants. 
That's  all  right — it  probably  needs  to  be  done — but 
it's  about  time  someone  started  on  us  down  here. 
Most  of  the  folks  hereabouts  speak  of  the  United 
States  like  some  foreign  country,  outside  the  moun- 
tains. They  vote — sometimes;  pay  taxes — when 
they're  made  to.  That's  about  all  America  means  to 
them.  And  there  are  five  million  of  us  mountaineers, 
I've  heard,  most  of  us  as  ignorant  as  that!  It  doesn't 
seem  like  there  could  be  that  many  people  plumb  lost 
in  these  hills  for  a  hundred  to  two  hundred  years, 
and  whose  grandpappies  were  in  old  Virginny  for  I 
don't  know  how  much  longer  back;  but  I  guess  there 
are.  Five  million  of  us,  and  yet  some  old  fogies 
down  in  Washington  talk  about  our  being  a  'decay- 
ing, doomed  race'  that  might  as  well  be  let  alone  to 
die  out,  like  the  Indians.  I  was  down  there  and 
heard  'em,  once. 


108 SMILING  PASS 

"That's  their  idea,"  he  said,  with  youthful  scorn 
in  his  voice.  "Then  I  read  a  story  about  us,  once, 
where  the  author  raved  about  our  being  the  finest, 
purest  stock  in  America,  and  having  the  blood  of 
Saxon  kings  and  Norman  conquerors— ^or  something 
like  that — in  our  veins.  That's  mostly  rot,  too. 
Some  of  our  ancestors  were  all  right,  I  reckon — real 
pioneers,  but  a  good  many  of  'em  were  pretty  poor 
material  who  came  because  they  couldn't  stand 
even  what  civilization  there  was  in  Virginny.  But, 
at  that,  I  guess  our  blood's  as  good  as  the  blood  of 
those  fellows  in  Washington,  who  sit  in  fine  offices 
making  up  statistics  and  saying,  'Tut,  tut.  Very 
sad,  but  that  race  has  run  out.  It's  beyond  help- 
ing'. Dam  'em!  I  want  to  show  them  whether  it  is, 
or  not." 

Rose  glanced  quickly  at  her  husband,  and  saw  in 
his  eyes  the  reflection  of  her  own  wonderment.  How 
had  this  lad,  a  native  of  Rattlesnake,  near  Beaten 
Creek,  gained  the  inspiration  and  the  knowledge 
to  talk  like  that?  His  language  was  not  cultured, 
but  it  was  as  unlike  that  of  most  mountain  men  as 
white  is  unlike  black.  An  Abraham  Lincoln  might 
have  spoken  thus;  but  this  lad,  who,  a  few  moments 
before,  had  seemed  so  frankly  youthful  and  ill-at- 
ease?  It  was  rather  astonishing.  She  looked  at  him, 
curiously. 

The  fire  had  burned  down  to  a  mass  of  ruddy 
embers.  Camille  bent  and  thrust  a  dry  branch  among 
them,  and  it  lived  again,  its  leaping  tongues  of  flame 


VIRGIL  109 


filling  the  little  room  with  warm,  flickering  light. 
It  beat  upon  their  visitor's  well-knit  figure  and 
intent  face,  and  seemed  to  have  kindled  its  spiritual 
counterpart,  for  his  eyes  were  glowing  eagerly. 
He  leaned  forward  and  clasped  his  hands  on  his 
khaki-clad  knees  in  a  forceful  attitude,  but  when  he 
spoke  again  it  was  more  slowly  and  with  a  note  of 
pathos. 

"Well  maybe  we  aren't  worth  saving, — I  don't 
know.  Men  that  study  about  races  might  say  that 
we're  not." 

"Oh,  no,  Virgil." 

"Yes.  We've  sunk  pretty  low.  But  hanged  if  I 
wouldn't  like  to  see  the  experiment  tried,  on  our 
mountain  kids,  anyway.  And  not  just  by  soft-hearted 
and  soft-headed  missionaries  and  settlement  work- 
ers— we  have  them,  and  they're  all  right  as  far  as 
they  go;  but  they  can't  make  much  impression  on 
five  million  of  us." 

"By  the  government,  then — the  way  it's  trying 
to  educate  the  Indians?"  suggested  Donald. 

"Maybe.  It  seems  to  make  an  awful  mess  of 
things  like  that  generally,  though.  No,  sir.  I  mean 
by  some  people  with  both  brains  and  guts  .  .  . 
Oh,  excuse  me,  that's  army  talk.  But  they'd  need  'em. 
We  Americans  need  to  be  Americanized.  If  only 
some  real  leaders  could  be  trained  up  among  our 
mountain  boys  and  girls,  we  might  get  busy  and 
save  ourselves." 

"Look  here,  boy,  where  the  devil  did  you  get  hold 


110 SMILING  PASS 

of  a  theory  and  a  ...  er  ...  an  inspiration 
like  this?"  Donald  demanded,  moved  to  speak,  equal- 
ly by  curiosity  and  the  stirring  of  a  deeper  feeling. 

"I  reckon  it  was  in  the  army,  sir;  a  little  in  camp 
here  and  more  overseas.  If  I  aw  a  real  American, 
myself,  it  started  when  I  saw  a  bunch  of  Roosians, 
Polacks,  Wops  and  the  like,  in  a  squad  called  'Ameri- 
cans All' — maybe  you  saw  them  in  the  city?" 

Rose  shook  her  head,  and  he  continued,  "They 
drilled  and  made  little  speeches  in  broken  English. 
At  first  I  laughed  at  'em,  but  after  a  while  I  got  to 
asking  myself  if  I  was  as  good  an  American  as  they 
were,  and  I  had  to  say  'No.'  Those  'furriners' — as 
we  call  'em — had  caught  the  Spirit  of  America,  and 
I  hadn't." 

"But  why  should  you  have  had  to  say  'No,'  Mr. 
Virgil?"  begged  Camille,  her  interest  conquering 
her  bashfulness  as  she  listened,  keeping  her  largs 
eyes  fixed  eagerly  upon  his  face.  "Is  it  not  that  you 
were  in  your  wonderful  army,  and  fighting  for  your 
country — and  mine?"  she  added  softly. 

"I  was  in  the  army,  yes.  But  I  hated  it — then. 
I  don't  like  to  tell  you  this,  folks,  but  you  might  as 
well  hear  it,  first  as  last."  He  paused;  then  continued 
hurriedly  and  with  his  eyes  on  the  floor,  "I  was 
drafted  and  .  .  .  well,  I  dodged  the  draft,  like 
hundreds  of  others  in  these  hills." 

"Why?"  asked  Donald,  bluntly. 

"I  don't  guess  I  can  make  you  understand,  sir. 
It  wasn't  that  I  was  afraid,  either  of  fighting  or 


VIRGIL  111 


going  across  the  ocean.  Lots  of  'em  were,  scared 
blue  at  the  idea  of  being  sent  to  another  island — 
'country,'  I  mean — not  knowing  how  they'd  ever 
get  back,  or  even  get  word  to  their  families  again." 

"Poor  things!   No  wonder,"  breathed  Rose. 

"No'm.  You  know  the  mountaineers.  Why,  there 
was  a  fellow  in  camp  with  me  who  deserted  and 
walked  home — he  lived  only  twelve  miles  away. 
When  they  caught  him  the  captain  asked  him  why 
he  did  it  and  he  said  that  he  didn't  mean  any  harm. 
He'd  never  been  away  from  his  mammy  a  day,  be- 
fore, and  he  was  afraid  that  she'd  worry  with  him 
so  far  off.  The  captain  told  him  that  his  mother 
was  twelve  hundred  miles  away,  and  the  poor  boob 
sat  right  down  on  the  floor,  and  gasped,  'Why,  sir, 
you'll  never  get  tew  go  back  thet  fur  as  long  as  you 
live.'  I'd  got  a  pretty  good  common-school  edu- 
cation down  at  Fayville,  but  I  hadn't  learned  Ameri- 
canism, any  more  than  the  rest.  The  United  States 
didn't  mean  anything  to  me.  I  loved  to  be  indepen- 
dent, and  no  one  had  ever  taught  me  the  meaning 
of  'service,'  or  what  the  war  was  about." 

"Yes,  we  understand,  Virgie,"  interrupted  Rose, 
with  almost  maternal  tenderness.  He  gave  her  a 
quick  look  of  gratitude  and  went  on,  still  more  pain- 
fully. 

"When  I  was  called,  I  ...  I  beat  it — ran  away 
with  several  others.  For  nearly  a  month  we  lived 
on  top  of  one  of  these  mountings,  with  pine  boughs  for 
beds  and  coffee  sacks  for  coverlids.  We  got  our  food 


SMILING  PASS 


from  home,  nights  —  made  regular  paths  down  to 
them.  Some  of  the  rest  finally  got  away  altogether; 
joined  a  band  of  real  outlaws.  They  wanted  me  to, 
but  .  .  .  well,  I  hadn't  run  away  for  that.  I  merely 
thought  I  was  keeping  my  freedon.  What  a  fool  I 
was!"  He  ended  bitterly. 

"But  you  finally  changed  your  mind?"    suggested 
Donald. 

"No,  sir.  I  had  it  changed  for  me  —  by  an  old  army 
sergeant  and  a  couple  of  local  deputy-sheriffs.  They 
.  .  .  they  ran  me  to  earth,  like  a  ground  hog, 
and,  when  I  wouldn't  come  out  of  my  hole,  they 
.  .  .  they  shot  me."  Virgil  spoke  the  last  three 
words  of  the  sentence  in  a  tone  which  was  barely 
audible,  and  at  the  same  time  held  up  his  right  hand, 
on  the  wrist  of  which  was  a  long  white  furrow. 

There  followed  a  moment  of  painful  silence.    Then 
Rose  whispered,  pityingly,  "Oh,  you  poor  boy!" 

"No'm.  I  had  it  coming  to  me.  Well,  while  the 
sergeant  in  charge  of  rounding  us  up  was  giving  me 
first  aid,  he  ...  he  told  me  a  few  things,  straight 
from  the  shoulder;  he  knew  how  to  handle  men. 
Then  he  put  me  on  my  honor,  and  I  finally  agreed 
to  go  to  camp  of  my  own  free  will.  In  fact  .  .  ." 
a  suggestion  of  a  twinkle  crept  into  his  eyes.  "In 
fact  I  started  'soldiering*  right  there,  and  helped 
guard  some  of  the  rest,  who  had  been  caught  in  the 
same  net.  They  had  all  celebrated  their  last  day  at 
home  by  getting  gloriously  drunk  on  moonshine,' 
and  it  was  sort  of  funny  to  hear  them  swearing  to 


VIRGIL  113 


blow  up  the  whole  U.  S.  army.  We  got  them  down 
to  the  county  jail  at  Fayville,  and  I'll  never  forget 
'Bad  Bill'  Cress  that  night."  Virgil  was  laughing 
boyishly,  now. 

"He  was  roaring  drunk,  and  thought  he  had  a 
special  grudge  against  me.  We  locked  him  hi  the 
only  real  cell  in  the  place,  and  when  he  saw  me  out 
in  the  street  he  fired  the  only  'fireable'  thing  he  had 
at  me — an  old  hairbrush.  Then,  for  hours,  he  kept 
bellowing  at  the  'damned  fools'  outside,  to  hand  it 
back  to  him;  said  they  knew  he  couldn't  go  into  the 
army  unless  he  had  his  hair  brushed." 

As  the  others  laughed  the  youth  became  serious 
again.  "Of  course  my  explanation  isn't  an  excuse, 
but  ..."  He  ended  by  extending  his  strong 
sinewy  hands  in  an  expressive  gesture.  "I  was  ship- 
ped overseas  in  the  33rd  Division  with  next  to  no 
training,  and  there — in  camp  and  in  the  fighting — 
I  gained  my  first  idea  of  what  it  all  meant  and  found 
myself,  little  by  little.  And  I  learned  what  America 
meant  and  what  the  flag  stood  for — I  don't  believe 
that  I  had  ever  even  seen  a  flag  before  I  got  to  camp." 

"I  guess  that  you  did  learn  your  lesson,  boy," 
said  Donald,  quietly.  "  For  I  see  that  you  wear  the 
silver  star." 

"Yes,  sir.  Perhaps  I'm  wrong,  but  I'm  prouder  of 
that  wound  than  I  am  of  anything  else  that  I  have. 
I  ...  I  sort  of  pretend  that  it  wiped  out  the 
other  one,"  he  added,  growing  boyishly  red. 

"I'm  sure  that  it  did,  Virgie," declared  Rose,  softly. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE   GREATER  VISION 

A  NUMBER  of  rifle  shots,  fired  in  rapid  succession 
from  the  creek  road  below,  broke  into  the  silence  which 
followed  Smiles'  affirmation  and  caused  a  somewhat 
startled  flurry  in  the  group  before  the  fire.  Paling 
slightly,  Camille  caught  hold  of  Donald's  hand, 
and  Virgil  sprang  to  the  door  to  peer  down  the  hill- 
side, which  was  vaguely  illuminated  by  a  half-grown 
moon.  He  laughed  a  little  as  he  exclaimed,  "I  thought 
so;  there's  no  mistaking  that  elephant  of  a  mule. 
It's  the  old  friend  whom  I've  been  telling  you  about 
— 'Bad  Bill' — going  home  from  Fayville  and  an- 
nouncing the  fact  to  the  people  of  Webb's  Gap." 

"Drunk?"  inquired  the  doctor,  somewhat  relieved. 

"Gloriously;  hardly  able  to  stick  on.  He  isn't 
moonshing,  himself,  at  present — lazy  not  repentant — ; 
but  it's  common  knowledge  that  he  is  bootlegging 
for  a  couple  of  our  first  citizens  at  the  County  Seat, 
on  a  fifty-fifty  basis.  They  pay  for  the  stuff  and  give 
him  half  for  getting  it.  Then,  since  the  rule  is  to 
drink  it  at  once,  he  gets  just  twice  as  intoxicated  as 
either  of  them." 

"Lucky  he  isn't  supplying  three  or  more,"  laughed 
Donald. 


THE  GREATER  VISION          115 

"There  he  goes  again!  I  shoufa  think  I  were  back 
in  France — or  that  it  were  Christmas  eve." 

"  'Christmas  eve?'  "  echoed  Camille  in  bewilder- 
mnte,  and  Virgil  answered,  "Yes.  Almost  all  the 
men  hereabouts  get  full  then  and  go  riding  and 
shooting  up  and  down  the  creeks.  .  .  . " 

"In  honor  of  the  advent  of  the  Prince  of  Peace," 
Rose  added,  with  bitterness  in  her  voice.  "I  can  re- 
member how  I  used  to  dread  and  hate  it.  Someone 
was  almost  always  wounded." 

The  noise  had  awakened  the  baby,  whose  little 
voice  was  now  raised  alike  in  protest  and  a  demand 
for  nourishment.  Rose  excused  herself  for  a  few  mo- 
ments and  departed  into  the  little  bedroom,  from 
the  door  of  which  Smiles,  Junior,  with  assistance, 
waved  good-night  to  the  rest.  Ordinarily,  Camille 
would  have  accompanied  them,  but  she  did  not 
move  and  Rose's  smile  held  both  amusement  and 
forgiveness. 

Until  her  return  Donald  plied  their  visitor  with 
questions  about  his  experiences  in  France  and  the 
other  answered  with  the  reticence  common  to  ex- 
service  men.  And,  as  they  talked,  the  girl's  eyes 
were  constantly  fixed  on  him,  except  when  he  di- 
rected his  own  towards  her.  Then  her  long  lashes 
were  hastily  lowered  to  meet  the  rising  color  in  her 
cheeks. 

When  Rose  rejoined  the  group  her  first  words 
were,  "I've  been  listening,  too,  Virgie,  and  wonder- 
ing how  you  learned  to  talk  so  fluently  and  express 


116 SMILING  PASS 

yourself  so  correctly — you  won't  mind  my  saying 
that,  for  I'm  'mountain,'  myself.  Where  did  you 
obtain  so  good  an  education?" 

He  flushed  slightly,  in  part  with  pleasure,  as  he 
denied  the  suggestion,  adding,  "I've  just  happened 
to  have  read  a  good  deal,  that's  all.  Poor  Pappy 
couldn't  read  at  all — he  never  had  a  chance — ;  but 
he  was  bound  that  I  should,  and  so  I  got  to  go  to  the 
settlement  school  down  at  Fayville,  between  plant- 
ing and  harvesting  seasons,  until  I  had  enough  units 
to  cover  the  four  years  in  high  school — or  what 
passes  for  'high  school,'  here.  Then  I  started  to  read 
law  by  myself,  evenings,  and  I  was  still  at  that  when 
....  when  I  was  drafted.  Over  there  I  came 
pretty  near  making  myself  unpopular  with  the 
fellows  by  taking  all  the  army  and  "Y"  courses 
that  I  could,  when  we  were  in  billets,  and,  after  I 
was  wounded,  I  was  sent  to  the  Officers'  Training 
School  at  Langres  until  my  unit  was  ordered  home." 

"So,  they  were  going  to  make  a  commissioned 
officer  of  you,  were  they?"  inquired  Donald. 

"They  were  going  to  try  to,  sir.  I  was  discharged 
a  sergeant,  though.  I  didn't  care  about  the  com- 
mission, especially;  but  I  should  like  to  have  re- 
mained and  got  a  bit  more  education,  if  it  hadn't 
meant  staying  in  the  army." 

"Yes,  I  can  understand  your  wanting  to  get  home. 
Still  your  experience  was  as  good  as  a  college  educa- 
tion," said  Rose. 

"Maybe,  in  a  way.  I  wish  that  I  might  have  had 
both,  though.  It's  too  late,  now." 


THE  GREATER  VISION          117 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  about  that,  How  old  are  you, 
Virgie?" 

"Twenty-two  last  fall." 

"But  plenty  of  men — especially  those  from  the 
farms  or  mountains — go  to  college  when  they're 
older  than  that." 

"Yes;  but  I  have  got  to  work.  Father  is  dead, 
now — he  died  of  the  'flu'  while  I  was  away — and 
there's  our  little  place  to  be  farmed,  unless  I  can  get 
to  do  the  kind  of  work  I  want." 

"And  what's  that?" 

"Teaching." 

Rose  glanced  quickly  toward  her  husband,  saw 
that  he  was  looking  at  her,  and  her  eyes  flashed  him 
a  message  which  his  mind,  attuned  to  her's,  caught 
and  understood.  It  seemed  as  though  Fate  were 
weaving  their  lives  into  a  new  pattern,  whether  they 
would  or  no,  and  adding  thread  after  thread.  Hump- 
ty  Hite  insisted  that  they  had  been  sent  there  for 
no  other  purpose  than  to  erect  a  mountain  school 
upon  his  land.  Here  was  a  mountain  youth  whose 
life's  ambition  was  to  teach,  if  the  way  could  be  un- 
covered for  him. 

."But  that  should  be  simple,  I  should  think," 
said  the  woman.  "With  your  settlement  school 
training,  and  the  other  education  that  you  have  re- 
ceived, you  could  certainly  pass  the  examination  for 
county  school  teacher.  Of  course  you  might  have  to 
brush  up  a  bit  with  someone,  first.  Oh,  by  the  way, 
Virgie,  is  Professor  Jackson  still  alive  and  teaching?  " 


118  SMILING  PASS 

"Yes'm,  both.  He  must  be  over  eighty  years  old, 
but  he's  still  grinding  'em  out." 

"And  who  is  the  distinguished  Professor  Jackson?" 
demanded  Donald. 

"He's  the  mountain  wizard  educator,  who  gives 
a  six  weeks'  intensive  course  to  would-be  navigators 
on  the  sea  of  learning  and  seldom  fails  to  get  them 
past  the  examination  rocks.  He  has  copies  of  the 
tests  for  ages  back  and  has  acquired  an  almost  un- 
canny ability  to  guess  what  questions  the  examin- 
ing board  will  ask,  besides  having  a  'pull'  with  it, 
some  say.  You  see  I  know  all  about  it,  because  I 
was  planning  before  you  came  and  put  different 
ideas  into  my  head,  to  go  to  him  in  a  year  or  two 

and  have  him  make  a  certificate  out  of  me,  and 

» 

"A  what?"  roared  the  man,  and  Rose  laughed  with 
him  as  she  replied,  "it's  the  old  mountaineer  way 
of  saying  '  prepare  one  so  that  he  can  pass  the  County 
examination  and  so  receive  a  certificate  to  teach/ 
but  how  much  more  terse  and  picturesque!" 

"Well,  why  don't  you  go  to  him  and  be  made  into 
a  certificate,  my  boy?  "  grinned  the  man. 

"Because,  sir,  that  isn't  what  I  want  to  teach — 
at  least  it  isn't  the  big  thing.  Of  course  county  edu- 
cation is  necessary;  it  helps,  I  reckon,  although 
sometimes  I  think  that  it  doesn't,  for  what  is  the 
good  of  giving  people  a  new  tool  that  they  don't 
know  how  to  use?  The  children  go  to  the  school,  off 
and  on,  for  a  few  terms,  get  a  little  education  and 


THE  GREATER  VISION          119 

then  just  go  back  to  raising  hogs  and  hominy,  ex- 
actly the  way  their  pappies  and  grandpappies  did 
before  them — and  living  just  the  same.  Besides* 
most  of  the  fathers  and  mothers,  who  can't  read  or 
write  a  word  themselves,  haven't  any  use  for  educa- 
tion for  their  children;  and  you  know  how  much  the 
ordinary  kid  will  go  to  school,  unless  he's  made  to. 

"Why,  Mrs.  MacDonald,  I've  heard  my  own 
grandpappy  Combs  say,  'What  good'll  lamin'  dew 
you,  boy?  I've  got  erlong  right  smart  without 
hit.  I  knows  a  dollar  when  I  sees  hit  and  haow 
tew  hang  ontew  hit.  Pleasure  in  eddication?  Hell, 
/  git  pleasure  enough  out  uv  my  dollars  and  I 
reckon  I've  more  uv  'em  than  you'll  ever  have,  ef 
you  waste  your  time  fiddlin'  eround  with  this  hyar 
book  larnin' '." 

He  stopped,  apparently  somewhat  ashamed  of  his 
outburst  and  having  spoken  thus  of  his  own  kin.  Then 
he  added,  abruptly,  "Maybe  you  see  what  I  mean." 

"Yes.  'You  can  lead  an  ass  to  knowledge  but 
you  can't  make  him  think/  "  misquoted  Donald. 
"Still,  a  gradual  change  is  bound  to  come,  isn't  it? 
Especially  if  the  state  succeeds  in  educating  the 
older  generation  a  little  through  it's  midnight  schools 
and  ...  ." 

"//it  does,"  broke  in  Virgil,  with  youthful  scorn 
in  his  voice.  "How  far  do  you  think  the  state  is  go- 
ing to  get  with  its  'moonlight  schools/  when  the  man 
who  is  supposed  to  teach  the  fathers  and  mothers 
at  night  is  about  all  in  from  teaching  their  children 


120 SMILING  PASS 

in  the  daytime?  And  when  the  'pupils'  are  middle- 
aged  men  and  women  who  have  been  working  in  the 
fields  or  houses  all  day  long  and  sometimes  live  miles 
from  the  school?  The  idea  of  mother  and  father 
climbing  onto  the  same  old  mule  and  riding  off  to 
school  by  moonlight — over  these  roads — with  their 
primers  in  their  saddlebags  in  search  of  knowledge, 
is  great  ...  I  don't  think!  If  they  should,  who 
would  keep  the  half  a  dozen  youngest  children,  all 
under  seven,  from  being  burned  to  death  if  the  eight- 
year-old  piled  too  much  wood  on  the  fire?" 

"No,  I  suppose  that  it  isn't  feasible,"  said  Rose, 
sadly.  "Humpty  Kite's  generation  is  lost." 

"I  reckon.  Of  course  it  might  be  done  by  carry- 
ing education  right  into  the  homes,  but  that's  about 
out  of  the  question.  No,  the  hope  of  the  mountains 
is  in  its  babies." 

The  woman  smiled  in  quick  and  sympathetic  ap- 
preciation. It  was  her  motto.  Then  she  asked,  "But 
what  is  to  be  done,  Virgil?  Education  has  got  to 
come,  and  you  wouldn't  be  talking  like  this  unless 
you  had  thought  about  some  other  way.  It  is  through 
the  settlement  and  missionary  schools?  They  keep 
the  children  longer  and  must  make  more  of  an  im- 
pression upon  them." 

He  leaned  forward  again,  and  his  face  resumed 
its  former  intense  look.  "I  don't  guess  so — not  the 
way  they  are  generally  run,"  he  answered.  "I  may 
be  a  sort  of  a  traitor,  for  I  went  to  the  settlement 
school,  and  a  good  one.  But  I  have  been  thinking 


THE  GREATER  VISION          121 

about  it,  a  lot,  and  I  can't  help  feeling  that  their  ordinary 
system  is  all  wrong,  too — or  at  least  only  half  right." 

He  paused,  and  smiled  a  little  shame-facedly  as 
he  added,  "Maybe  you-all  think  that  I'm  a  conceit- 
ed young  fool  to  be  criticizing  everything,  like  this." 

"Not  by  a  darned  sight,"  responded  Donald, 
heartily.  "I'm  getting  interested.  Fire  away." 

"All  right;  but  I'm  like  as  not  to  shoot  disconnected 
ideas  about  like  a  machine  gun  does  bullets,  once 
I  get  going,  sir.  Well,  take  my  own  school  down  at 
Fayville.  I  reckon  that  it's  pretty  well  endowed 
and  it  has  several  hundred  pupils — it  points  with 
pride  to  the  fact  that  it  has  given  a  good  education 
to  a  big  bunch  of  mountain  boys  and  girls,  and  taught 
them  to  live  decently,  as  well.  It  is  doing  a  good  work 
in  a  way,  and  the  people  in  charge  have  a  high  ideal 
— I'm  sure  of  that — but  somehow  it  seems  to  me 
like  an  awful  waste  of  both  labor  and  material." 

Donald  interrupted  again  with  a  blunt  demand 
for  an  explanation,  and  Virgil  twisted  uneasily  in 
his  chair  and  flushed  a  little,  whereupon  Camille 
shot  a  reproachful  glance  at  the  questioner. 

"Well,  it's  like  this,  sir— at  least,  it's  the  way  it 
strikes  me.  The  little  missionary  schools,  where 
one  or  two  teachers  are  simply  working  themselves 
to  death  for  us  generally  unappreciative  mountain- 
eers, are  only  scratching  the  surface,  here  and  there, 
while  the  bigger  schools,  like  the  one  at  Fayville, 
which  has  a  teacher  for  every  three  or  four  pupils 


122 SMILING  PASS 

"No!"  exclaimed  Donald  and  the  youth  nodded 
his  affirmation,  going  on,  "...  although  they  train 
the  brains  and  improve  the  manners  of  a  bigger 
number,  simply  lift  the  individual  out  of  the  mud 
and  land  him  in  ...  in  discontent." 

"Of  course,  but  discontent  with  the  old  is  the 
main-spring  of  progress." 

"Maybe  it  is,  of  individual  progress,  sir.  But 
I'm  thinking  about  our  whole  mountain  people, 
and  it  hasn't  worked  out  that  way,  here.  One  or 
two  things  happen  in  almost  every  case,  as  I  know 
for  a  fact.  Either  the  boy  or  girl  wholly  lacks  ambi- 
tion, goes  home  again,  and,  after  a  little  while  of 
dissatisfaction  with  everything,  simply  slumps  back 
into  the  old  way  of  living — in  which  case  the  time  and 
money  is  practically  a  dead  loss — or  they  can't 
stand  it,  break  the  home  ties  altogether  and  go  to 
one  of  the  nearer  towns  or  cities  and  are  simply 
swallowed  up.  And  that's  just  as  much  or  more-  of 
a  loss  for  the  mountains.  They  have  made  some  per- 
sonal gain,  but  they  can't  meet  the  city-bred  people 
on  an  equal  plane  in  the  fight  for  worthwhile  posi- 
tions, and  generally  end  up  small  clerks  or  motor- 
men.  You  can't  expect  to  jump  over  a  hundred  years 
in  six  or  eight  school  terms — the  handicap's  too  big 
for  all  except  the  rare  exceptions,  men  like  Lincoln, 
who  will  do  it  anyway."  Virgil's  eyes  glowed. 

"I  read  an  article  about  us  mountaineers,  once, 
in  which  the  writer  told  how  the  race  had  gone  down- 
hill from  .  .  .  from  in-breeding,  and  he  ended  by 


THE  GREATER  VISION          123 

saying  something  like  this:  'Let  the  older  generation 
die  out  and  the  new  move  out;  there  is  no  future  in 
those  mountains  for  anyone.  The  race  is  doomed, 
in  a  few  generations  more,  at  the  best.' 

"But  I  don't  believe  it!"  Virgil's  words  rang  out 
like  the  sharp,  challenging  notes  of  a  bugle,  and  Rose 
instinctively  clapped  her  hands  together  softly,  and 
cried,  "Good!" 

"Supposing  it's  true  that  our  race  is  pretty  badly 
run  out  at  the  heel — and  it  isn't  strange,  the  way  we 
live  and  inter-marry  and  with  our  diet  so  poor  and 
disease  so  general — it  has  the  purest  blood  in  Amer- 
ica, and  there  must  be  some  good  shoots  left,  which 
could  be  brought  back  to  bear  fruit,  even  if  the 
greater  part  has  to  die  out.  And  these  mountains 
are  ours;  our  grandpappies  won  them — they  belong 
to  us,  and  we  to  them.  I  love  it;  it's  a  fine  country, 
for  all  its  rocks  and  mud." 

"It  is!  I  love  it,  too,  Virgil,"  exclaimed  Rose, 
eagerly. 

"That  writer  said  that  the  soil  is  thin  and  will  soon 
be  worn  out  the  way  we  cultivate  it,  and  that  may  be 
true,  too.  But  there  are  other  ways.  We  can  learn 
to  terrace,  as  they  do  the  hillsides  in  France  ..." 
Camille's  face  lighted  up  and  she  smiled,  "... 
and  there  are  plenty  of  other  things  which  could  be 
carried  on  here,  anyway.  But  we  mountaineers  have 
got  to  be  made  over,  first.  We're  got  to  be  made 
over  in  every  way;  in  character,  customs  and  man- 
ner of  thought. 


124  SMILING  PASS 

"We've  lost  our  grip  on  the  great  things — -the  glory 
of  service,  responsibility,  leadership.  Why,  there  were 
plenty  of  mountain  men  in  my  unit  overseas — some 
of  them  had  been  in  the  army  for  years — who  were 
perfectly  capable  of  making  good  officers  and  many 
of  them  were  offered  commissions.  But  almost 
every  one  refused  the  chance,  afraid  of  the  responsi- 
bility. The  trouble  is  that  we've  forgotten  how  to 
lead;  and  the  schools  hurt  more  than  they  help — 
they  repress  us  still  more  and  make  machines. 

"But  I  believe  that  some  of  our  boys  and  girls 
can  be  trained  to  do  the  needed  thing, — return  home 
and  lead  their  own  kind  to  a  higher  level.  If  it's 
ever  going  to  be  done  it  has  got  to  be  by  us,  from 
within.  Thai's  what  I  want  to  do — make  leaders  of 
men,  right  here  in  our  mountains." 

"Well,  why  don't  you  try  it,  then?"  Donald  had 
become  so  interested  in  their  unusual  visitor  that 
he  determined  to  test  him  out  a  little,  and  spoke 
cynically.  "Your  criticisms  have  sounded  logical, 
but  they  have  all  been  merely  destructive.  If  you 
have  any  remedy,  why  don't  you  try  it  out,  yourself?  " 

"How  can  I?  How  could  I,  alone?  I  have  a  plan 
that  I  think  might  work,  and  I'd  tackle  the  job  to- 
morrow, even  'though  it  would  mean  bucking  my 
own  people  and  the  old  order — the  satisfied  stand- 
patters— all  along  the  line,  if  I  felt  there  was  any 
use;  for  me  to  do  it,  I  mean.  But  you  know  how  hard 
it  is  to  change  people,  and  ..." 

"Indeed,  we  do,"  broke  in  Rose,  sympathetically. 


THE  GREATER  VISION          125 

"To  the  everyday  sort  of  mind  what  is,  is  best.  The 
pioneers  in  any  movement  have  to  fight  every  inch 
of  the  way,  just  as  our  ancestors  did  over  range  after 
range  of  these  hills." 

"And  generally  get  themselves  crucified,  burned 
at  the  stake  or  shot  for  their  pains,"  added  Donald. 

Virgil  answered  doggedly,  "I  know  it." 

"Well,  isn't  that  the  lot  of  every  reformer?  And 
you're  advocating  a  sort  of  revolution,"  persisted 
the  man. 

"Supposing  it  is,  what  does  it  matter? "  demanded 
Rose,  her  eyes  flashing  with  the  light  of  battle.  "One 
life  doesn't  amount  to  anything — God  thinks  in  thou- 
sands, of  men  and  years  alike.  But  a  cause  .  .  .  !" 

"Salut,  Jeanne  d'Arc!"  smiled  her  husband  and 
Camille  cried  hotly,  "Ne  vous  mouquez  pas,  Donald! 
C'est  vrai." 

The  visitor  sent  her  a  quick  smile  of  appreciation. 
"Perhaps  I  think  with  Mile.  Camille  that  you 
shouldn't  make  a  joke  of  Mrs.  MacDonald's  dec- 
laration. But  one  might  have  the  spirit  of  a  Joan 
of  Arc — I  don't  say  that  /  can  claim  it,  you  know — ; 
but  even  if  he  did  have  it,  it  wouldn't  be  worth  much 
in  a  matter  of  this  kind  without  something  to  cor- 
respond to  her  archers  and  lancers." 

"Meaning,  I  suppose,  special  training." 

"Yes,  sir.  I've  seen  enough  of  the  world  to  know 
that  a  man  who  tackles  a  physical  opponent,  or 
problem,  unprepared,  is  likely  to  get  licked — and  in 
a  hurry.  That's  why  I  feel  so  helpless.  What  do  I 


126 SMILING  PASS 

know  about  putting  over  civic  education  and  com- 
munity work?  Nothing;  and  what  I  don't  know  would 
fill  a  library!  I've  thought  and  dreamed  about  it 
ever  since  I  got  home,  but  my  hands  are  sort  of  tied. 
I  did  make  one  attempt,  though.  When  I  got  home 
I  was  partially  out  of  commission  as  a  result  of  my 
wound  and  I  applied  for  vocational  training  in  com- 
munity work.  But  when  I  suggested  it  the  bureau 
looked  blank — at  least  the  letter  I  received  did — 
and  advised  me  that  I  would  do  better  to  learn  car- 
pentry, that  trained  mechanics  got  higher  wages, 
anyway.  Bureaus  are  funny  things,  and  funny 
things  happen  when  they  pull  the  bit  of  red  tape 
prepared  in  advance  to  meet  a  given  situation."  Virgil 
spoke  more  lightly.  "  They  sent  me  two  sets  of  orders, 
a  day  apart,  one  to  report  at  Cincinnati  and  the  other 
at  Lexington,  and  likewise  two  passes.  I  saved  one 
of  them  as  a  souvenir." 

He  took  out  a  battered  pocket  book  and  finally 
found  in  it  a  paper,  which  he  handed  to  Rose.  She 
read  aloud,  "  'Good  for  one  transportation  from 
Rattlesnake  to  Fayville,  via  steamship  or  railroad 
(Pullman  excepted).'  What  did  you  do  with  the 
other?  Use  it?"  she  asked,  when  their  laughter  had 
subsided. 

"No'm.  I  sent  it  back  with  a  request  for  a  permit 
to  ride  an  old  blind  mule.  It  hasn't  come,  yet  .  .  . 
and  my  disability  has  disappeared."  He  stretched 
his  tall  and  muscular  figure  and  drew  up  his  chest 
with  youthful  pride. 


THE  GREATER  VISION          127 

"And  if  you  could  have  the  opportunity  to  go 
away  and  be  especially  trained  in  community  work, 
what  then?"  Donald  asked,  bluntly. 

"I  don't  reckon  that  I  should  go,  now."  Rose 
experienced  a  sense  of  real  disappointment  at  his 
words,  for  he  had  stirred  her  soul  strongly  with  his 
vision.  Was  he,  then,  like  all  the  rest,  and  his  en- 
thusiasm for  the  cause  which  he  advocated  confined  to 
high-sounding  declarations?  But  he  had  continued, 
and  the  inner  glow  had  again  superseded  the  smile 
on  his  strong,  pleasant  face.  "You  see  I'm  beginning 
to  hope  that  I  won't  have  to  do  it  alone." 

"Why,  how  is  that?  Has  anyone  started  the  sort 
of  work  .  .  .  ?" 

"No'm,  not  yet,  but  .  .  .  folks  up  Beaten  way 
are  saying  that  you  are  planning  to  open  a  school  for 
them,  there." 

'"Well,  I'll  be  darned!"  ejaculated  Donald.  "They 
used  to  tell  us  that  the  three  quickest  ways  of  spread- 
ing news  were  '  telegraph,  telephone  or  tell  a  woman/ 
but,  for  'woman'  I'm  going  to  substitute  'Moun- 
taineer'." 

"Well,  it's  true,  Virgie;  but  not  anything  like  what 
you  have  in  mind,  I'm  afraid.  Just  a  little  ABC  and 
two-times-two  school  for  the  kiddies,  perhaps,  along 
with  a  little  hospital  and  clinic." 

"Don't  do  it,  Mrs.  MacDonald.  I  rode  down  here 
tonight  to  beg  you  not  to.  You're  starting  fresh. 
Won't  you  start  right?  ...  I  mean,  give  my  scheme 
a  fair  trial  and  see  if  we  can't  have  a  little  demon- 


128 SMILING  PASS 

stration  plant  here,  to  show  the  world  that  leaders 
can  be  made  as  well  as  bora.  I'll  do  all  I  can;  I'll  work 
my  head  off  for  you,  if  you  only  will.  Perhaps  you 
don't  know  much  more  than  I  do  about  how  to  do  it, 
but  you've  lived  in  a  big  city — so  has  Dr.  MacDonald 
— and  surely  you  must  be  acquainted  with  people 
who  do,  or  how  to  get  in  touch  with  a  trained  com- 
munity worker  who  would  come.  I'll  write  to  them ; 
take  what  little  money  I  have  and  go  and  see  them 
and  make  them  want  to  come,  if  necessary.  Perhaps 
you  think  that  I'm  looking  for  a  job,  but  I'm  not.  If 
I  can  get  a  living  for  myself,  my  mother  and  Omie — 
she's  my  little  sister — that's  all  I  want  until  I  am 
trained,  too,  and  worthy  of  my  hire.  You  can  do  it, 
I  know  you  can.  Of  course  it  will  be  hard.  We'll 
have  to  fight,  but  I  reckon  we're  all  fighters.  You 
have  visions,  too.  I  know  that,  and  I  won't  let  them 
crucify  you."  He  made  the  promise  with  the  splen- 
didly egotistical  courage  of  youth. 

"You  said  awhile  back  that  you're  mountaineer 
again.  It's  for  our  people,  our  mountains.  Please 
be  Joan  of  the  Mountains!  The  French  girl  gave  a 
crown  and  a  kingdom  back  to  her  king.  You  can 
give  a  lost  race  back  to  America. " 


CHAPTER  X 

TWO   LETTERS   AND   A   BRIEF  DISCUSSION 

"...  THAT,  Margaret,  is  the  gist  of  our  re- 
markable caller's  declaration.  After  he  had  left — 
Camille  went  as  far  as  the  porch  with  him  and  the 
two  children  stood  in  the  moonlight  until  I  had  to 
summon  her  in  and  send  her  to  bed — Donald  and  I 
sat  up  before  the  dying  fire  until  almost  midnight, 
talking  it  over,  and  we  came  nearer  to  having  a  real 
quarrel  than  we  ever  had  before  in  our  joint  lives. 
I  scarcely  need  tell  you  its  cause.  Perhaps  I  am  vision- 
ary and  over-optimistic,  but  so  intangible  a  thing 
as  a  vision  must  be  the  sub-keel  of  every  forward- 
moving  ship  and  optimism  greases  her  launching  ways. 
Pessimism  only  throws  sand  into  the  gears — to  change 
my  simile  abruptly. 

Of  course  I  could  not  but  love  him  for  the  stand 
he  took,  since  I  knew  that  he  was  opposing  my  plan 
merely  because  it  would  mean  my  working  myself 
into  a  shadow.  Besides,  he  could  foresee  the  actual 
difficulties  better  than  I,  I  suppose — a  woman  may 
dream,  but  it  generally  takes  a  man-mind  to  achieve, 
— that  is  why  God  put  both  kinds  into  the  world, 
that  they  might  be  complementary  parts,  one  to  the 
other. 

If  we  really  go  ahead  with  Virgil's  vision  it  will 

take  thousands  and  thousands  of  dollars  before  we 

get  through.    What  little  we  have  left  would  be  but 

a  tiny  drop  in  the  bottom  of  the  bucket  and  that  will 

129 


130  SMILING  PASS 

be  swallowed  up  at  once  in  the  building  of  the  little 
home-hospital  which  I  mean  to  have,  anyway.  He 
wanted  to  know  where  the  rest  was  to  come  from  and 
of  course  all  I  could  answer  was,  'It  will  come,  if  we 
wish  and  work  hard  enough — God  will  see  to  that/ 
which,  from  an  everyday  worldly  standpoint  sounded 
utterly  foolish.  But  it  will,  Margaret,  somehow,  if 
we  can  make  a  real  start  and  make  our  need  known 
to  the  world.  And  again,  we  can,  if  we  will. 

In  a  way  I  hated  to  press  this  idea,  for  it  means 
that  he  must  sacrifice  so  much,  along  with  me.  I'm 
sure  that  he  will  be  better — be  well — soon,  but,  even 
crippled  as  he  is,  he  could  return  home  after  a  little 
rest  and  earn  thousands  a  year,  if  only  in  consulta- 
tion. But  what  are  a  few  years?  Of  course,  all  I  plan 
to  do  is  help  start  the  ball  a-rolling.  Then,  when 
sufficient  'Virgils'  are  trained,  we  can  slip  quietly 
out  to  spend  our  declining  years  in  dear  old  Boston, 
and  leave  the  task  to  the  ones  who  should  carry  it 
on,  the  mountaineers. 

In  the  end  Donald  half-yielded,  tired,  I  suppose, 
of  fighting  against  a  woman  whose  last  word  is  never 
reached  until  she  is  dead.  But  his  surrender  was  con- 
ditional; conditioned  upon  my  finding  the  sort  of 
trained  Community  leader  whose  presence  is  abso- 
lutely essential.  /  am  as  ignorant  of  the  hows  and 
whys  as  Smiles,  junior. 

Of  course  I  do  not  have  to  explain  my  reason  for 
writing  this  to  you.  The  fact  that  you  are  the  only 
person  I  know  trained  for  socially  educational  work 
with  children  would  be  enough;  but  you  will  surely 
recall,  as  I  do,  your  own  enthusiastic  proposition 
along  almost  exactly  the  same  lines.  You  and  Virgil 
are  in  some  respects  as  far  apart  as  the  poles,  but  his 
vision  and  your  education  coincide  strangely. 


TWO  LETTERS  131 

Now  I  am  going  to  say  something  with  the  almost 
brutal  frankness  of  man  speaking  to  man.  I  have 
heard  your  real  purpose  seriously  questioned;  scoffed 
at,  in  fact.  I  have  heard  you  called  'faddish',  and 
not  in  the  least  stable  in  your  enthusiastic  dreams 
for  human  betterment.  I'll  add — not  by  way  of  pro- 
pitiation, but  because  it's  so — that  I  took  the  oppo- 
site side.  I  think  that  I  can  read  human  nature 
(who  doesn't?)  and,  anyway,  women  should  stand 
up  for  each  other,  the  way  men  do,  and  we  generally 
don't. 

But  now  I'm  frankly  throwing  down  the  gauntlet 
to  you! 

If  you  meant  it,  and  mean  it  still,  pack  up  a  suit- 
case or  two  and  come — to  'the  land  of  the  saddle- 
bags.' Don't  bring  a  trunk,  at  first;  you  might  not 
need  it  and  the  sight  of  one  would  probably  frighten 
the  natives  as  much  as  a  'nelephant.'  Yes,  come  if 
you  meant  it;  but  don't  stir  a  step  unless  you  feel 
sure  you  have  screwed  your  courage  to  the  sticking 
point,  and  are  mentally,  morally  and  physically  ready 
to  fight! 

You'll  certainly  be  called  upon  to  endure  physical 
hardship,  poor  food  (poor,  that  is,  from  an  epicurean 
standpoint),  hurt  feelings  and  every  known  dis- 
couragement— I'm  perfectly  sure  of  that.  Yes,  and 
perhaps  danger,  as  well.  Feuds,  moonshine  and  mur- 
der— the  latter  pair  are  as  inseparable  as  were  the 
Siamese  twins — are  here  not  romantic  memories  of 
by-gone  days,  but  ever-present  and  very  unpleasant 
realities. 

Really,  as  I  write  this,  knowing  how  true  it  is,  and 
how  almost  innumerable  are  the  difficulties  ahead 
and  round  about  us,  I  am  beginning  to  lose  courage 
for  you.  But  there's  a  wonder-work  to  be  done; 


132 SMILING  PASS 

I've  caught  the  gleam  of  the  vision  and  I  share  Vir- 
gil's faith  that  it  can  be  done  by  someone  trained  and 
true. 

I  hereby  pledge  myself  not  to  think  a  bit  the  worse 
of  you  if  you  say,  'not  I/  for  I  know  how  easy  it  is 
to  make  declarations  and  promises  such  as  you  made 
that  afternoon  in  Boston,  on  the  spur  of  an  enthu- 
siastic moment;  and  I  pledge  myself,  too,  not  to  be 
very  disappointed  if  you  should  flee  for  home  again, 
after  a  week  or  two. 

Well,  dear,  that's  my  story  and  my  proposition. 
'Take  it  or  leave  it,'  as  our  soldier  boys  used  to  say. 
Affectionately  your  friend, 
ROSE  MACDONALD." 

BEACON  STREET, 
BOSTON. 
"My  dearest  'Smiles': 

(I've  simply  got  to  call  you  that  even  though  I 
am,  as  yet,  barely  acquainted  with  you.)  Your  won- 
derful letter  is  here  beside  me.  As  I  glance  at  it  I  am 
thrilled  anew  with  the  thought  of  what  it  contains! 
That  I  am  actually  going  into  your  Cumberlands 
to  live  with,  and  be  one  with,  those  picturesque 
mountain  people  seems  almost  too  wonderful  a  thing 
to  have  possibly  fallen  to  my  lot! 

Of  course  I  am  coming  to  you.  Do  you  think  that 
I  would  pass  that  opportunity  on  to  another?  Mother 
has  pleaded,  father  has  stormed,  but  I  have  always 
done  just  what  I  wished  with  them  in  the  end,  and 
so  ...  I  am  coming — coming  to  give  my  very 
best  to  you,  dear  Smiles,  and  to  Virgil's  Great  Cause. 
I  like  to  whisper  the  words  over  and  over,  they  are 
so  filled  with  poetry  and  romance;  don't  you  think 
so? 


TWO  LETTERS 133 

How  much  real  help  I  can  be  I  do  not  know.  Of 
course,  I  have  had  a  great  deal  of  training,  theoret-  j 
ical  and  actual,  in  social  and  community  service 
work,  yet  I  feel  myself  unworthy,  somehow.  Your 
catalogue  of  hardships  and  dangers  has  not  terrified 
me — I  shall  love  that — but  sometimes  the  thought 
of  the  magnitude  of  the  task  appalls. 

But  I  shall  come  to  you,  resolved  to  give  of  my 
best  and  /  shall  stay — if  only  to  justify  your  faith  in 
me  and  prove  that  'certain  people'  are  wrong  in  their 
estimation  of  my  character. 

Work  in  the  city  slums,  which  I  have  laid  out  for 
the  early  summer,  and  a  few  engagements  which 
cannot  very  well  be  broken,  will  prevent  me  from 
coming  to  you  until  early  in  August,  but  I  under- 
stand from  what  you  said  at  the  start  of  your  in- 
spiring letter  that  your  first  dear  little  house  will 
not  be  ready  at  Beaten  Creek  (what  a  picturesque 
name!)  until  then. 

And  now  I  must  tell  you  of  a  strange  coincidence 
which  occurred  just  this  afternoon  and  makes  me 
more  than  ever  feel  that  Fate  must  be  guiding  us  in 
all  this  for  some  hidden  reason.  By  the  merest  chance 
I  met  Philip — perhaps  I  should  say  'Dr.  Bentley* 
— and  his  friend,  Dr.  Hunter,  the  one  who  is  going 
to  be  with  you  in  the  hospital  work  there.  The  latter 
was  very  cordial,  and,  when  I  told  him  of  my  over- 
whelming good  fortune,  he  not  only  expressed  him- 
self as  being  pleased  but  told  me  that  his  year  at  the 
hospital  ends  in  July  and  that  he,  too,  is  going 
to  the  mountains  the  first  of  August.  We  have  planned 
to  make  the  trip  together.  Isn't  that  perfect? 

Of  course,  I  shall  write  you  very  often  during  the 
next  three  months,  for  there  are  innumerable  ques-  j 
tions  which  I  shall  want  to  ask,  and  I  shall  also  be-? 


134  SMILING  PASS 

gin  at  once  to  interest  my  many  friends  and  the  so- 
cieties to  which  I  belong  in  our  cause. 

But  this  is  just  to  let  you  know  that  I  am  coming. 
Oh,  I  am  so  happy  in  the  thought  that  Chance  has 
placed  in  my  hands  this  opportunity  alike  to  be  of 
service  and  'prove  myself. 

Enthusiastically  yours, 

MARGARET." 
April  the  eleventh. 

Donald  laid  Margaret's  newly-arrived  letter  on 
his  knees  and  looked  up  at  his  wife,  who  had  been 
standing  before  him  on  the  porch,  as  he  read  it, 
slowly.  His  expression  was  much  like  that  depicted 
on  the  carven  face  of  the  Sphinx. 

"Well?"  she  queried. 

"I  see  that  Margaret  thought  it  necessary  to  put 
'a  special  delivery  stamp  on  it — not,  of  course,  that 
it  has  done  any  harm  or  expedited  its  delivery  at 
all,"  he  observed,  judicially. 

"I'm  not  interested  in  your  observations  concern- 
ing the  outside  of  the  envelope,"  cried  Rose,  snatch- 
ing it  from  his  hand.  "But  I  am  in  what's  in  the 
letter.  Honestly  and  truly,  what  do  you  think?" 

He  waited  a  moment,  and  looked  far  off  over  the 
mountain  slope  to  the  west,  now  in  deep  purple 
shadow,  and  the  still  more  distant  sky  where,  be- 
neath a  bank  of  slate-gray  clouds,  the  sun  was  sink- 
ing in  angry  colors. 

"I  think,  'honestly  and  truly,'  that  it  is  going  to 
rain  to-morrow.  That  wind  .  .  . " 

"Bother  the  wind.    Of  all  the  mean  men!"    Half- 


TWO  LETTERS  135 

laughing  and  wholly  exasperated,  Rose  seized  Donald 
by  his  broad  shoulders  and  pretended  to  shake  him. 
"It  sounds  exactly  as  though  it  had  been  written 
by  a  gushing  boarding-school  girl,  now  doesn't  it?" 
she  demanded. 

"Oh,  don't  you  think  that  you  are  doing  a  grave 
injustice — to  the  boarding-school,  my  dear?"  he 
asked,  adding,  "But  you  mustn't  be  too  hard  on 
Margaret.  She's  really  very  bright  and  entertaining, 
and  she  will  be  very  good  company  for  the  cripple 
during  the  ten  days  that  she  stays  at  Beaten." 

"So  you  give  her  ten  days?" 

"Yes,  I  am  generous  by  nature;  I  can't  help  it." 

Rose  seated  herself  on  the  broad  arm  of  his  chair 
and  snuggled  her  hand  into  his.  For  a  time  she  sat 
there,  speechless,  and  at  one  moment  he  glanced  up 
and  thought  that  he  saw  a  suggestion  of  tears  in 
her  eyes.  At  length  she  said,  "I'm  so  disappointed, 
on  Virgie's  account,  that  I  could  almost  cry,  and  I've 
half  a  mind  to  go  this  instant  and  write  to  her  that  I 
have  changed  my  plans  and  that  she  is  not  to  come." 

"I  wouldn't,"  answered  Donald,  quietly.  "It  will 
open  her  eyes  to  what  life  really  is,  and  a  thumping 
good  failure  may  do  her  a  world  of  good,  in  her  after- 
life— besides  she's  going  to  pay  her  own  expenses." 

"So  you're  perfectly  sure  that  she  will  fail?" 

"Hmmm.  Well,  I'm  a  cautious  man,  naturally, 
'and  I  won't  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  I'm  perfectly 
[sure*  Still  .  .  .  well,  Philip  seems  to  be  a  man  of 
rare  discernment.  I  think  I'll  agree  with  him." 


136 SMILING  PASS 

"The  letter  has  terribly  disappointed  me,"  she 
said  slowly.  "But  I  don't  believe  that  the  Lord 
would  have  presented  Margaret  to  us,  as  He  seemed 
to  do,  especially  to  meet  our  need,  unless  He  had 
really  meant  for  her  to  be  of  service." 

"And  you  still  feel  the  same  about  Hunter?" 

"Of  course.  Why,  you  haven't  any  doubts  about 
him,  have  you?" 

"I'm  not  sure.  When  we  included  him  in  our  plan 
it  was  extremely  simple;  now  it  seems  to  be  becoming 
pretty  complex,  and  perhaps  he  won't  fit  in  harmon- 
iously— he's  a  peculiar  chap  and  I  imagine  that  a 
rather  passionate  nature  is  bottled  up  inside  him. 
I  had  almost  forgotten  how  touchy  the  moun- 
tain nature  can  be,  when  I  suggested  his  coming." 

"Well,  we  haven't  asked  him  to  join  us  indefi- 
nitely— as  I  did  Margaret,  thanks  to  my  natural 
optimism.  We  can  send  him  packing  if  necessary, 
for  you  and  I  can  do  without  him.  But  we  need  her 
to  help  make  good  our  promise  to  Virgil.  Oh,  hark!" 

From  the  edge  of  the  darkening  wood  came  the 
plaintive,  musical  note  of  a  whippoorwill. 

"It's  the  first  one  I've  heard  this  year.  Wish, 
quick!"  she  cried. 

There  was  a  moment  of  silence.  Then  Rose  said 
softly,  "I'd  spoil  the  charm  if  I  told  you  my  wish, 
dear.  But  it  was  pretty  comprehensive,  and  I  am 
sure  that  you  are  going  to  get  well  and  that  she  is 
going  to  make  good.  Virgil's  youthful  vision  must 
come  true — some  day!" 


PART  II 

THE  UNFOLDING 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   HOME-COMING 

FOUR  months  had  passed  into  the  tomb  of  Time; 
four  months  crowded  with  events  which  had  whirled 
around  Rose  as  the  never-ending  waters  of  Defeated 
Creek  eddied  about  one  of  its  boulders.  It  had  been 
her  will  which  had  worked  the  miracle  that  appeared 
before  them,  part  way  up  the  green  hillside  of 
Humpty  Kite's  perpendicular  farm.  Donald — bound 
to  his  cushioned  chair,  his  fighting  spirit  chafing 
against  the  enforced  restraint  until  at  times  he  felt 
that  he  should  go  mad — had  been  her  Agamemnon, 
the  wise  counselor.  Camille  had  cheered  her  with 
her  companionship  and  freed  her  hands  to  fight  by 
taking  almost  exclusive  care  of  Smiles,  junior — a 
thing  which  was  to  the  baby's  adoring  mother  a 
blessing  mixed  with  pain.  Virgil  had  lent  his  enthu- 
siastic aid,  body  and  mind;  Humpty  Kite,  his  blind, 
patient  services;  Judd,  his  ever-critical  help,  for  to 
him  she  was  a  petticoated  Don  Quixote  tilting  at 
windmills — not  that  he  would  have  understood  the 
allusion,  of  course.  Others  had  labored,  too,  a  few 
for  love,  more  for  a  day's  pay;  but  it  was  her  will 
which  had  been  the  mainspring  for  it  all. 

At  last  the  day  had  come  when  the  first  lap  in  the 
139 


140 SMILING  PASS 

long  race  had  been  covered.  They  had  figuratively 
reached  the  first  mile-stone  and  paused  there,  just 
as  the  jolt-wagon  had  literally  paused  after  turning 
the  last  sharp  twist  hi  the  rough  road  leading  from 
their  old  home  to  their  new.  And  their  eyes  were 
lifted  unto  the  hills  where  the  miracle  stood. 

Silently,  her  face  shining  with  the  light  of  pride 
with  which  the  faintest  shadow  of  a  doubt  was  min- 
gled, Rose  turned  to  her  silent  husband.  Would  he 
commend  her?  For  a  moment  Donald  looked  steadily 
up  the  steep  ascent  toward  the  spot  where  the  two 
new  houses,  their  home  and  the  little  school-hospital 
— joined  to  one  another  by  a  broad  piazza,  like  two 
children  hand-in-hand — stood  out  against  the  green 
background  in  the  light  relief  of  new  pine  clapboards. 
Even  as  he  looked  the  descending  sun  struck  upon 
first  one  window,  then  another,  until  they  all  seemed 
to  gleam  with  friendly  light. 

Watching,  Rose  saw  him  turn  his  steady  gaze  to 
the  left  and  let  it  rest  for  an  instant  upon  the  home 
of  their  nearest  new  neighbor — the  tiny  cabin  which 
Camille  had  described, — its  narrow  doorway  packed 
with  half-frightened,  half-curious,  dirty  and  barely 
clad  children. 

"It's  a  miracle!"   His  exclamation  was  her  reward. 

"Not  of  my  performing,"  answered  Rose.  "If 
you  approve  you  have  Judd  and  Virgie,  Humpty 
Kite  and  Preacher  Paul  to  thank."  Then  she  clasped 
his  hand,  held  it  tight  and  continued  with  a  little 
catch  in  her  voice.  "I'm  glad  that  you  hike  it — 


THE  HOME-COMING  141 

I  knew  you  would — ;  but  if  you  could  only,  only 
have  been  with  us  in  body,  as  well  as  in  spirit,  and 
seen  it  grow!  We  had  to  fight  for  it,  didn't  we,  Juddy? 
But  the  fun  more  than  made  up  for  the  labor. 
Honestly,  Don,  men — and  women,  too — came  from 
miles  around  to  see  the  'furrin  houses'  that  had  been 
made  out  in  the  United  States  and  sent  in  here  in 
pieces  like  a  picture  puzzle,  and  to  watch  us  put  it 
together." 

"They  done  more'n  that,"  supplemented  Judd 
from  his  driver's  seat.  "They  went  all  the  way  down 
tew  the  station  at  Fayville  tew  look  at  'em.  I  don't 
reckon  that  we  could  have  got  'em  up  hyar  at  all 
over  thet  thar  creek  road  if  their  curiosity  hadn't 
made  'em  willing  tew  lend  a  hand.  Guess  Smiles 
told  you  abaout  it." 

"Yes.  But  I  didn't  dare  to  tell  him  how  you  stayed 
at  Fayville  yourself  two  nights  to  keep  guard  over 
them  with  a  rifle.  It  might  have  worried  you,  Don." 

"Good  gracious,  what  was  that  for?"  demanded 
the  doctor. 

"Oh,  I  dunno  as  hit  war  fer  anything,  only  .  .  . 
well  the  people  hyar-abaouts  take  funny  notions, 
sometimes.  Anyhaow  we  got  'em  in  after  a  while — 
all  except  the  big  timbers." 

Donald  nodded.  "Yes,  Rose  told  me  that  it  was 
a  physical  impossibility  to  cart  them  around  the 
twists  and  turns  of  that  road,  and  I  believe  it." 

"Well,  I  reckon  we  might  hev,  by  blasting  away 
a  hundred  or  so  cliffs  or  cuttin'  the  timbers  in  two — 


142 SMILING  PASS 

which  wouldn't  have  helped  much.  The  ones  we 
felled  and  hewed  are  just  as  good  or  better,  though. 
Them  houses  are  solid,  even  if  they  do  look  kind  of 
perched  up  thai — like  a  couple  of  girls  with  their 
skirts  too  short  fer  'em."  He  chuckled,  and  the  baby 
gurgled  as  though  in  appreciation  of  his  jest. 

"They  certainly  did  look  that  way  at  first," 
laughed  Rose.  "  So  we  added  those  latticework  floun- 
ces to  hide  their  spindly  legs.  'A  plumb  onnecessary 
foolishness,  I  calls  hit/  Humpty  Hite  said,  when  we 
started  to  make  them.  You  needn't  grin,  Judd, 
you  called  it  a  waste  of  money,  yourself.  Hite,  at 
least,  had  the  grace  to  say,  'hit  air  sorter  purty,' 
when  it  was  done." 

"Now  I  guess  that  you're  squelched,  Judd," 
Donald  interjected. 

The  other  grinned,  sheepishly.  "Oh,  hit's  all 
mighty  fine,  I  hain't  denyin'  that;  but  hit's  too  good 
fer  this  place  and  if  Smiles  is  goin'  tew  live  hyar  she'd 
better  get  over  her  expensive,  citified  ideas.  Put- 
tin'  money  into  these  hyar  maountings  is  like  pourin* 
water  into  a  sieve — when  you're  done  hit's  gone, 
and  thar's  nothin'  tew  show  fer  hit." 

"I'm  afraid  you're  a  hopeless  store-keeper,  Judd," 
sighed  Rose,  half -humorously.  "Don't  you  know 
that  money  isn't  necessarily  wasted  just  because 
you  may  not  be  able  to  see  a  stock  of  canned  goods 
and  calico  in  its  place?  This  is  all  part  of  our  plan 
to  educate  our  mountain  people  in  ideals  of  better 
living,  as  well  as  in  the  three  R's.  If  we  can  set 


THE  HOME-COMING  143 

good  examples  before  them  in  every  possible  way — 
if  only  to  create  sufficient  envy  in  their  hearts  to 
make  them  go  and  do  likewise  ..." 

"Hit  won't.  I  allaowed  that  your  six  years  away 
from  the  maountings  would  make  you  forget,  and 
hit  has." 

"It  hasn't!"  she  flashed.  "The  trouble  is  with 
you.  You  lack  vision  and  faith,  Judd;  but  I'm  going 
to  put  them  into  your  heart,  if  I  have  to  shoot  them 
in  with  a  rifle." 

"  'Go  it,  wife!  Go  it,  bear'!  "  quoted  Donald, 
keenly  amused. 

Judd  shook  his  head.  "Well,  I  know  the  value  of 
money  and  what  hit  is  tew  be  in  debt.  Naow,  of 
course,  I  don't  know  what  them  houses  cost 
you — a  good  bit  of  money,  I  reckon,  and  proba- 
bly as  much  more  tew  get  'em  daown  hyar  by  train 
and  set  up,  and  ..." 

"If  you  don't  stop  crying  'Economy'  and  'it  can't 
be  done/  I'm  going  to  change  your  name  from  Amos 
to  'Calamity.'  And  I'll  call  you  'Clammy,'  for 
short.  You  began  when  I  told  you  that  I  meant  to 
get  an  education  and  become  a  trained  nurse,  and 
now  you're  at  it  again." 

"Well,  I've  got  tew  admit  thet  you  done  hit  that 
other  time,  but  then  you  were  working  on  yourself, 
which  was  pretty  good  soil.  Naow  .  .  .  wefl,  I 
know  us  mountaineers,  that's  all." 

"Hopeless!  I  mean  that  you  are."  She  abruptly 
changed  her  whimsical  manner  to  deep  seriousness 


144 SMILING  PASS 

as  she  turned  to  her  husband  to  say,  in  a  distressed 
voice,  "Is  Judd  right,  Don?  I  know  that  we  have 
been  awfully  extravagant.  They  do  represent  a 
good  deal  of  money,  and  actually  cost  more  than  the 
original  expense  to  get  them  here  and  built." 

"I'm  backing  you"  he  answered,  quietly.  "As 
for  the  houses,  they  are  material  assets — 'canned 
goods  and  calico '.  " 

"Assets  which  would  be  unmarketable,  I'm  afraid." 

"Well,  then,  they're  'home/  and  the  best  is  none 
too  good.  It's  not  much  like  the  one  I  promised  to 
build  for  you  when  we  returned  from  France  and 
settled  down,"  he  added,  with  a  trace  of  bitterness 
in  his  voice. 

"It's  better,  Donald— at  least  hi  my  eyes.  It's 
not  only  where  my  heart  is — that  would  be  equally 
true  in  Boston  or  Fijiland  if  you  were  there — but  it 
is  going  to  be  a  doorway  of  Opportunity  for  this 
adopted  land  of  ours,  I  hope." 

"So  be  it,  then.  All  right,  Judd.  Let's  go  .  .  . 
home." 

Judd  jerked  the  reins  and  clucked  to  his  team; 
but,  before  he  could  set  them  in  motion,  the  head 
of  another  plodding  mule,  a  huge,  ungainly  animal, 
appeared  around  the  abrupt  turn  just  behind  them, 
heralded  by  the  words,  lustily  chanted  in  the  heavy 
voice  of  its  unseen  driver,  "Dark  claouds  a-formin', 
hit's  a-goin'  tew  rain;  wagon  heavy  loaded,  step 
on,  'Lizy  Jane. " 

All  of  them  turned  in  time  to  see  the  rickety  con- 


THE  HOME-COMING  145 

veyance  swing  into  view.  The  single  plank  that 
made  the  seat  was  bent  low  beneath  the  weight  of  a 
mountainous  man,  fully  as  large  as  Grandpap  Webb 
had  been.  His  bulky  form  was  clad  in  denim  over- 
alls, frayed  and  patched,  and  a  coal-blackened  blue 
shirt,  from  the  open  neck  of  which  rose  a  massive 
head.  His  muscular  jaws  were  black  with  stubbly 
beard  and  the  corners  of  his  broad  mouth 
brown  with  tobacco  juice;  rather  small  eyes  were 
set  deeply  under  shaggy,  protruding  eyebrows,  a 
blue  scar  ran  partway  across  one  cheek  and  the  whole 
sullen  countenance  was  crowned  with  matted  black 
hair,  faintly  penciled  in  gray. 

"It's  'Bad  BUI'  Cress,  isn't  it,  Judd?"  inquired 
Rose  in  an  undertone. 

He  nodded,  as  he  drew  his  team  close  to  the  bank 
so  that  the  other  might  pass,  with  the  off-wheels  of 
his  vehicle  in  the  creek  bed  and  its  body  tipped  at 
a  precarious  angle,  and  answered,  "Yes.  One  of 
your  new  neighbors.  Do  you  reckon  he'll  enter  the 
door  of  Opportunity?" 

"Good-evening,  Mr.  Cress,"  she  called  brightly, 
and  Judd  added  the  customary  invitation,  "Better 
get  daown  and  come  in,  Bill." 

With  unchanging  expression  the  mountaineer  re- 
garded the  strange  wagonload,  expectorated  and 
replied,  "Reckon  I'll  be  gittin'  along.  Git-up,  'Lize." 

"Glad  to  see  us,  wasn't  he?"  remarked  Donald 
with  the  old  fighting  expression  settling  around  his 
own  mouth.  "  'Bad  Bill' — well,  he  looks  the  part, 
which  is  more  than  is  true  of  most  villians," 


146  SMILING  PASS 

Judd  nodded  again,  "Outlaw  for  six  years — lived 
in  a  cave  on  the  maounting  behind  your  place.  Still 
moonshiner  and  rifle-toter.  Never  been  caught, 
although  everybody  knows  hit  and  that  he's  killed 
two  men.  The  sheriffs  git  kinder  blind  when  they're 
out  lookin'  fer  Bill,  whatever." 

"I  suppose  that  you'll  have  made  him  your  sworn 
friend  and  ally  in  a  week  or  two,  Rose."  Her  husband 
smiled,  but  grimly. 

"Of  course,  at  least  if  I  get  an  opportunity  to, 
and  trying  counts.  We'd  better  have  him  for  a  friend 
than  an  enemy,  hadn't  we,  Don?" 

"I  reckon,"  Judd  answered  with  feeling  and  added 
"  Goin'  tew  convert  him,  too?  Obie  Fugate  ses  that 
hit's  scandiculous  the  way  he  carries  on  and  Preacher 
Paul  that  he  has  'a  hard  heart  and  a  reprobated 
mind'." 

"Certainly  I'm  going  to  win  him,  if  I  can." 

"I  believe  that  you'd  tackle  the  devil  himself," 
her  husband  put  in,  and  she  retorted, "  Wouldn't  you?" 

"Hmmm.  Well  I'd  just  as  lief  not  meet  him  un- 
til my  appointed  time  comes.  I'm  not  as  full  of 
fight  as  I  was  once." 

He  glanced  at  Judd  and  the  mountain  man 
smiled  in  recollection. 

Rose's  protest  was  interrupted  by  a  cry  from 
Camille.  "Oh,  look,  Sourisl  Isn't  it  the  Mr.  Virgil?" 
She  pointed  up  the  creek  toward  a  youth  approach- 
ing them  on  a  galloping  horse,  which  he  rode  with 
the  ease  and  grace  of  a  cowboy. 


THE  HOME-COMING  147 

"My,  how  sharp  some  people's  eyes  are  growing," 
mocked  Donald.  The  girl  flushed  slightly. 

"Well,  it  looks  as  though  we  are  going  to  be  greeted 
at  the  gate,  even  if  your  friend  'Bad  Bill'  has  re- 
fused the  invitation  to  act  as  a  committee  of  one  to 
welcome  us  home." 

Virgil  had  already  vaulted  from  his  horse  at  the 
entrance  to  the  path  which  wound  up  the  mountain- 
side, tossed  his  bridle  carelessly  over  one  of  the 
fence  palings,  and  swung  wide  the  broad  gate.  A 
happy  smile  illuminated  his  manly  young  face. 

"A  second  piece  of  foolishness — according  to 
Judd,"  remarked  Rose,  pointing  to  the  two  tall 
posts  and  elevated  cross  pieces  which  formed  a  rus- 
tic gateway. 

"Where  is  your  sense  of  the  artistic?"  demanded 
her  husband,  humorously,  and  then  cried,  "Whoa!" 
as  his  gaze  rested  on  a  sign  nailed  high  on  one  of 
the  posts.  New  white  letters  on  a  background  of 
dark  green  spelled  the  words: 

"Smiling  Pass 
Come  in,  Friend." 

For  a  moment  he  studied  the  inscription,  silently. 
Then  he  turned  to  Rose  with  a  look  of  quiet  pleasure 
in  his  gray  eyes. 

"You  think  it's  a  happy  thought,  Don?"  was  her 
eager  question  and  he  answered,  "It  is  like  you,  dear." 


148  SMILING  PASS 

"Only  I  didn't  do  it — at  least  not  the  'Smiling 
Pass'  part.  It  was  altogether  Camille's  idea." 

Flushing  still  the  more,  the  girl  bent  her  head. 
Then  she  looked  up  quickly,  a  distressed  appeal  in 
her  big  eyes.  "But  I  ...  I  just  could  not  live 
in  a  place  called  'Beaten,'  Donald.  You  understand, 
is  it  not  so?" 

"Yes,  I  understand,  ma  petite" 

She  brightened  as  she  went  on,  "Of  course  the  new 
home  had  to  be  named  for  Souris,  some  way,  and 
she  told  me  that  this  is  a  pass  between  the  moun- 
tains." 

"And  is  to  be  a  pass  for  its  people  from  shadow 
to  sunshine,  God  willing,"  added  Rose. 

"There  is  your  motto,  ready  made:  'SMILING 
PASS,  From  Shadow  to  Sunshine'.  I  believe  that 
it  has  always  been  your  heart's  motto,  my  child." 

The  final  expression  was  Donald's  supreme  term 
of  endearment,  save  on  rare  occasions  when  they 
were  alone,  and  his  wife  thanked  him  with  the  smile 
which  meant  far  more  to  him  than  any  words. 

"I  hope  so,"  she  said.  "It  really  was  Camille's 
suggestion,  but  it  has  given  me  an  idea,  too." 

"An  idea?  You?"  Donald  spoke  lightly  in  a  man- 
like endeavor  to  cover  up  his  deeper  feelings. 

"Yes.  Impossible  as  it  may  appear  even  I  have 
one  occasionally.  Do  you  want  to  hear  it?  The  only 
fee  that  we  shall  charge  at  our  hospital  shall  be  a — • 
a  smile,  paid  on  departing.  And  when  we  get  the 
school  started  the  children  shall  pay  their  tuition 


THE  HOME-COMING  149 

daily  in  the  same  bright  currency.  And  we  will  have  a 
boy's  club  where  all  shall  be  Knights  of  the  Smile  and 
it  shall  be  their  grip  and  password  combined,  and  .  . " 

"Wait!  If  you  keep  on  you'll  have  the  millenium 
arriving  about  the  middle  of  next  week/'  exclaimed 
Donald,  while  Judd  shook  his  head,  despairingly. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  that  I  am  an  enthusiastic  little 
goose,  but  I  can  no  more  help  planning  pleasant 
things  than  I  can  help  .  .  . " 

"Smiling,  perhaps?" 

"Don't,  Don.  That's  mean.  Honestly,  I've  some- 
times reached  the  point  where  I  vowed  that  I  should 
shriek  and  throw  things  at  the  very  next  person 
who  called  me  by  that  foolish  nick-name;  but  now 
I  mean  to  resign  myself  to  it,  'for  ever  'n'  ever,  amen,' 
and  work  it  for  all  it  is  worth — the  name,  I  mean, 
not  the  facial  contortion."  Whereupon  her  lips 
instantly  belied  her  words. 

Donald  chuckled,  and  responded  to  his  wife's  de- 
mand for  an  explanation  of  his  mirth  by  saying, 
"I  was  just  wondering  how  Hunter  is  going  to  get 
across  the  threshold.  I  don't  believe  that  he  ever 
smiled  in  his  life." 

"Why,  he  does  smile,  too.  Perhaps  not  often  with 
his  lips,  but  with  his  eyes.  There  is  almost  always 
one  in  them,  I  noticed." 

"So?"  The  man  relapsed  into  silence,  but  its 
possible  significance  was  lost  on  Rose,  who  had 
turned  in  answer  to  Virgil's  greeting,  and  was  thank- 
ing him  for  anticipating  their  homecoming. 


150  SMILING  PASS 

Camille,  after  acknowledging  the  young  man's 
"Bon  soir,  mademoiselle"  had  apparently  centered 
her  whole  attention  upon  the  baby. 

The  horse  and  mule  turned  in  at  the  gateway  and, 
straining  against  the  harness,  pulled  the  cumber- 
some wagon  up  the  ascent  to  the  foot  of  the  flight 
of  steps  to  "home."  Donald  eyed  it  with  painful 
expectations,  but  when  Judd  and  Virgil  had  aided 
him  to  alight  and  adjust  his  crutches,  Rose  led  him 
by  a  gently-rising  pathway,  which  her  forethought 
had  provided,  to  where  the  back  of  the  new  house 
snuggled  against  the  mountainside.  There  she  opened 
a  door  and  lightly  saluted  her  husband's  cheek  with 
a  kiss  of  welcome  as  he  stepped  inside,  followed  by 
the  rest. 

"Well,  well.  How  bright  and  cheerful  it  is!  How 
can  the  people  here  live  their  lives  without  windows 
and  sunshine?"  he  exclaimed,  as  he  paused  to  let 
his  searching  gaze  enter  in  turn  the  several  small 
but  cheerful  rooms  opening  off  the  hallway. 

"Smiles!" 

His  further  exclamation  was  occasioned  by  the 
sight  of  the  nearest  one,  which  was  furnished  as  a 
combination  office  and  living  room.  Unbelieving, 
he  closed  his  eyes  for  an  instant;  then  looked  again. 
For,  save  for  its  plaster-board  walls  and  ceiling 
and  its  plain  pine  floor,  it  was  his  old  study 
of  the  long-ago  Boston  days!  The  same  time-marred 
furniture  stood  there,  arranged  as  of  yore;  the  same 
cherished  engravings  graced  the  wall;  the  same 


THE  HOME-COMING  151 

bookcases  sat  on  either  side  of  the  quarry-stone 
fireplace  and  bore  the  same  well-thumbed  volumes; 
the  old  trophies  of  college  days  and  of  vacation  hunts 
decorated  the  plain  mantelpiece;  there  was  his  fav- 
orite Morris  chair,  with  extra  cushions  inviting  him 
to  rest  within  their  comforting  depths. 

For  a  moment  the  man's  heart  was  too  full  of 
gratitude  toward  the  one  whose  loving  thoughtful- 
ness  had  been  responsible  for  it  all  for  him  to  utter 
a  word.  He  swung  himself  to  the  chair  and  lowered 
his  big  form  slowly  into  it.  Rose  moved  to  his  side 
and  seated  herself  on  the  broad  arm,  whereupon 
his  arm  encircled  her.  Camille,  still  carrying  the 
baby,  led  the  other  two  silent  men  on  a  tour  of  in- 
spection through  the  rest  of  the  little  house,  every 
stick  of  which  they  knew,  every  piece  of  furniture 
in  which  they  had  set  in  place. 

"Yes,"  said  Donald,  at  last.   "It  is  home." 


CHAPTER  II 

INCIDENTS   ENDING   IN  A    "  HOUSE WARMIN*  " 

"THERE,  there  dear,  don't  tremble  any  more. 
It's  all  over  now,  and  you're  been  wonderfully  brave. 
Listen  to  me,  Versie.  I've  seen  hundreds  and  hun- 
dreds of  brave  soldiers,  and  brave  children,  too, 
over  in  France  during  the  Great  War,  but  njever 
one  with  more  courage  than  you  have  had.  Will  you 
tell  your  pappy  that,  for  'Nurse  Smiles'?  " 

The  ten-year-old  girl  who  was  sobbing  within  her 
comforting  arms  gulped  an  assent. 

"And  you'll  promise  to  come  to  our  school,  as  soon 
as  it  begins  and  your  eyes  are  all  well?  And  bring 
Verta  with  you?" 

"I  .    .    .1  reckon  I  will,  ma'am." 

"Good.  Now  Omie  shall  lead  you  home,  by  the 
hand,  just  as  though  you  were  really  blind,  instead 
of  a  little  girl  who  is  soon  going  to  see  the  birds  and 
the  flowers  and  the  trees  .  .  . " 

"And  mammy  and  pappy?" 

"Yes,  and  mammy  and  pappy,  far  better  than  she 
ever  has  in  her  whole  life.  And  remember,  you're 
not  to  take  the  bandage  off  until  I  come,  tomorrow." 

"Yes'm.    Thank  you  .    .    .  and  the  doctor  feller, 
fer  doin'  hit,"    the  child  mumbled  indistinctly. 
152 


A  "  HOUSEWARMIN'  "  153 

"That's  all  right,  dear.  We  want  to  help  all  the 
children  here." 

"And  don't  forget  to  tell  your  brother  that  his 
glasses  have  arrived  from  the  city,  and  that  he  is  to 
come  up  here  and  get  them  this  evening,"  reminded 
Donald. 

Virgil's  sister,  now  transformed  by  a  modern 
middy  blouse  with  flowing  tie  and  a  becoming  blue 
skirt,  beneath  which  appeared  shapely  feet  and  an- 
kles clad  in  tan — as  sweet  and  dainty  a  fifteen-year- 
old  girl  as  there  was  in  all  America — ,  took  the  blind- 
folded child  by  the  hand  and  led  her  out  of  the  room. 

"Whew,"  said  Donald.  "She  certainly  did  have 
nerve,  that  kid.  I  must  have  half-killed  her.  Well, 
live  and  learn.  I  never  expected  to  sit  in  a  pillowed 
chair  and  perform  an  operation  for  trachoma." 

"Naturally  not,"  responded  his  wife,  now,  as  she 
had  back  in  her  own  childhood  vowed  to  be  some 
day,  his  special  nurse.  And  she  continued,  while  she 
deftly  cleaned  the  instruments  with  which  he  had 
removed  the  cicatrization  whose  hard  granules  had, 
for  years,  been  literally  and  painfully  scraping  away 
the  sight  from  the  eyeballs,  "You  wouldn't  natur- 
ally expect  to  have  a  patient  utterly  refuse  to  receive 
an  anesthetic  for  a  reason  like  that" 

Donald  laughed,  "So  her  pappy  was  afraid  that 
if  we  'put  her  to  sleep'  we  would  steal  her  soul 
from  her,  was  he?  And  the  poor  kid  had  to  endure 
all  that  pain,  needlessly." 

"It's  maddening,  isn't  it?" 


154 SMILING  PASS 

"It  sure  is — the  whole  problem  is.  You  and  Vir- 
gil and  Margaret  can  dream  away  about  making  a 
race  of  moral  and  intellectual  giants;  /  am  having 
nightmares  over  saving  'red,  sore  eyes' — as  they 
call  'em.  Heavens!  I  never  knew  what  a  hold  tra- 
choma had  on  this  section,  and  we're  in  the  very 
center  of  its  grip.  Listen  to  this."  He  reached  out, 
took  an  opened  pamphlet  from  the  table  beside  him 
and  read,  "  'In  the  seven  counties  surveyed' — this 
was  by  Stucky,  back  in  1910,"  he  interpolated — 
"  '3,974  persons  were  examined,  500  of  whom,  or 
twelve  and  one-half  per  cent  were  found  to  be  suffer- 
ing from  trachoma'.  "  He  ran  his  eye  further  down 
the  page  and  read  again,  "  'Along  one  creek,  taken 
at  random,  there  were  sixteen  cases  ...  in  ten 
consecutive  homes' — bet  it  was  this  creek.  How  in 
the  deuce  it  ever  got  in  here  at  all  is  a  mystery,  for 
the  disease  was  imported  from  Europe.  Let's  see, 
they  say  something  about  that."  He  turned  back 
a  page  and  read,  "  'The  mountain  people  are  not 
given  to  travelling  about;  they  live  by  themselves, 
as  they  have  for  years,  in  little  homes  scattered  over 
every  range,  rarely  so  grouped  as  to  form  even  a 
small  settlement,  and  almost  shut  out  from  the  world 
at  large.  .  .  .  They  are  not  at  all  the  "poor  whites  " 
of  the  South,  but  are  a  keen,  bold  breed  of  men, 
remnants  of  Revolutionary  days,  real  Americans, 
half  a  million  of  them,  but  many  of  them  in  a  state 
of  arrested  civilization'.  " 

"Good!"  Rose  interrupted.  "Virgil  should  see  that." 


A  "  HOTJSEWARMIISr  "  155 

"It  goes  on  to  describe  the  customs,  which  you 
know  .  .  .  Wait,  this  is  put  tersely:  'Off  in  the 
wilds,  far  from  the  beaten  trails,  log  cabins  are  found 
up  and  down  the  creeks,  and  in  these  little  homes, 
frequently  consisting  of  but  a  single  room,  some- 
times even  without  a  window,  the  entire  family, 
numbering  from  five  to  fifteen,  will  live,  eat  and 
sleep.  Could  a  more  fertile  field  be  found  for  the 
propagation  of  contagious  or  infectious  diseases?' 
Answer;  it  could  not.  'The  pathos  and  tragedy  of 
the  conditions  of  the  natives  of  the  mountains  are 
that  if  they  are  to  receive  help  it  must  be  carried  to 
them,  as  they  are  practically  mountain-locked.'  Wait 
you'll  like  this.  'In  the  regeneration — sure  to  come 
— of  this  section,  so  vastly  wealthy  in  minerals  and 
forest  products,  a  gradual  education  of  the  people 
themselves  will  be  accomplished' — it's  printed  in 
the  book  and  must  be  so,"  he  interpolated — "  'which 
will  surely  lead  to  an  understanding  of  preventive 
measures.'  A  nice  task  for  your  leaders- to-be." 

"And  one  that  they  are  going  to  be  taught  to 
meet,"  she  answered.  "We've  already  made  a  tiny 
start  along  that  one  line;  I'm  sure  that  I  can  see  a 
little  change,  even  in  this  single  month.  If  we  were 
only  going  to  stick  to  helping  heal  their  bodily  dis- 
eases I'm  certain  that  all  would  go  smoothly  enough, 
but  when  Margaret  arrives  ..." 

"If  she  ever  does!  How  many  times  has  she  post- 
poned her  start  already?" 

"You're  mean,  Donald.    Dr.  Hunter  couldn't  get 


156  SMILING  PASS 

away  when  he  expected  to,  and  I  don't  blame  her 
for  not  wanting  to  make  the  trip  alone.  What  I 
started  to  say  was,  when  she  and  Virgil  begin  to 
overturn  our  neighbors'  children's  every  habit  of 
thought  and  life  I  don't  know  what's  going  to  happen. 
Their  parents  may  be  driving  us  out  at  the  point  of 
a  gun,  like  .  .  .." 

"Nonsense!" 

"It's  not  nonsense,  Don.  When  will  you  learn  that 
every  other  mountaineer  is  a  powder  mine,  with 
fuse  timed  to  explode  in  half  a  second?  Well,  the  first 
step  is  always  a  long  way  on  the  road,  and  we've 
been  lucky,  so  far — perhaps  that's  tempting  Fate, 
as  Humpty  Kite  says  it  is  to  declare  that  you're 
feeling  splendidly.  You  know  that  his  answer  to 
'How  are  you?'  is  always  'Jest  ord'nary'  when  it 
isn't,  'I  haint  doin'  very  good'.  " 

"Give  the  Lord  the  credit  and  I  guess  you'll  be 
safe,"  replied  her  husband.  "It  certainly  looks  as 
though  He  sent  the  plague  to  help  us,  as  he  did  to 
help  the  Children  of  Israel  out  of  Egypt." 

"Don't  be  sacrilegious,  Donald." 

"I'm  not,  I'm  sincere.  What  would  we  be  doing 
if  He  hadn't  sent  Mrs.  Gayheart  and  little  Omie  to 
cook  for  and  take  care  of  our  well  being,  generally? 
And  where  on  the  face  of  the  'Beaten'  earth  would  we 
have  found  a  place  to  put  them  if  He  hadn't — well 
let  us  say  'permitted'  the  flu  to  remove  the  entire 
Zenas  Tittle  family  at  the  psychological  moment 
so  that  we  could  get  hold  of  a  not-half-bad  double 


A  "  HOUSEWARMIN*  "  157 

cabin  just  across  the  creek?  Besides,  you  can't  help 
but  agree  that  the  Tittles  are  better  off  in  Heaven 
than  they  would  have  been  here." 

"I  suppose  so — poor  creatures.  She  was  going  to 
have  another  baby,  too.  It  sounds  utterly  heartless 
but  I  have  almost  prayed  that  she  might  die  and  it 
be  spared  the  journey  to  this  earth.  What  a  crime 
it  is  against  society  to  allow  people  as  diseased  in 
body  and  mind  as  they  to  marry  and  have  offspring! " 

"Double  first  cousins,  weren't  they?" 

"Of  course.  Half  the  people  on  this  creek  are, 
and  the  children  of  cousins,  as  well.  You  can't  throw 
a  stone  at  random  without  hitting  a  Tittle  or  a  Tent." 

"I  know.  How  do  you  expect  to  get  any  results 
with  material  like  that?  " 

"It's  been  worrying  me  a  lot,  Don.  Of  course, 
Margaret  is  coming  here  without  knowing  the  real 
conditions  and  Virgie  has  the  blind  enthusiasm 
of  youth.  But  we  know  that  eugenic  laws  are  as  im- 
mutable as  those  of  the  'Feeds  and  the  Mersians' 
— as  Preacher  Paul  says.  You've  got  to  help,  Don. 
What  shall  we  do  to  start  this  visionary  scheme  with 
its  feet  on  the  ground?  I'm  really  getting  frightened. 
I've  made  an  awful  lot  of  wild  pledges." 

"  So,  you're  beginning  to  realize  it?  Judd  ..." 

"Darn  Judd,"  cried  the  woman  petulantly.  "Half 
of  my  promises  are  the  result  of  his  pessimism.  When 
he  says,  'You  can't,'  I  swear  that  I  will." 

"Well,  anyway  I'm  glad  that  you  asked  that  ques- 
tion, for  I've  been  doing  some  thinking — I'm  good 


158 SMILING  PASS 

for  nothing  else,  now,"  he  added,  with  the  bitter 
note  still  more  pronounced.  She  would  have  con- 
tradicted him,  but  he  continued  with,  "If  you're 
going  ahead  with  this  plan  it  can't  be  on  a  hit  or  miss 
basis.  That  would  be  as  absurd  a  waste  of  energy 
as  occurs  in  the  average  settlement  school — accord- 
ing to  Virgil's  contention.  You  mentioned  eugenic 
laws.  There's  your  starting  point.  I  believe  that  we 
shouldn't  take  a  child,  even  for  the  month's  trial 
that  you  have  planned,  until  we  have  first  got  his 
or  her  pedigree, — like  a  horse's  or  a  dog's.  If  there's 
any  material  in-breeding  shown  by  it,  turn  'em  down. 
Mistakes  will  occur,  of  course,  but  fewer  than  if  you 
take  'em  as  they  come." 

"It  sounds  scientific — and  heartless,"  she  answered, 
with  marked  hesitation. 

"Exactly.  But  if  I  understand  Margaret's  won- 
derful plan  as  elaborately  outlined  in  her  last  epistle, 
this  is  to  be  a  Citizenship  and  Community  leaders' 
training  proposition,  not  an  eleemosynary  institution. 
Like  the  Creator,  you've  got  to  deal  with  big  princi- 
ples; individuals  only  incidentally." 

"I  suppose  so.  But  .  .  .  oh,  dear,  I  know  that 
I'm  going  to  be  soft-hearted,  just  as  Judd  says.  I'll 
try  to  let  reason — meaning  you,  sir — govern  that 
unruly  member,  but  I've  already  set  my  heart  on 
Euphemy  Fugate's  Linzie  for  one  of  our  boys.  He's 
adorable  and  as  bright  a  child  as  ever  I  knew." 

"And  he's  outside  the  pale  erected  by  my  sug- 
gestion?" 


A  "  HOUSEWARMIN'  "  159 

"No,  I  don't  think  so.  But  .  .  .  but  he's  illegit- 
imate, Don,"  Rose  replied,  softly. 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  it?  Love  babies  may 
be  generally  branded  at  birth  in  the  eyes  of  an  idiotic 
and  censorious  world — as  though  it  were  their  fault 
— but  they're  often  the  best  possible  citizenship 
material.  Take  him,  of  course.  Perhaps  he  has  the 
making  of  an  Alexander  Hamilton,  who  knows?" 

They  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of  an  uncer- 
tain step  upon  the  porch,  a  knock  at  the  door.  "  Come 
in,"  called  Rose  and  an  instant  later  a  boy  of  sixteen, 
clad  in  ragged  shirt  and  overalls,  entered  the  room 
and  stood  with  the  irresolution  alike  of  blindness 
and  timidity.  His  body  was  thin  through  under- 
nourishment, his  face  showed  the  pallor  and  hollows 
of  anemia,  and  his  eyelids,  thickened  and  almost 
closed  to  shut  out  the  painful  light,  were  red  and 
watery. 

t  "Oh,  hello,  Desty.     So  Versie  told  you  that  your 
glasses  had  come?"  was   Donald's  greeting. 

"Hit's  so,"  the  lad  replied  in  a  spiritless  voice. 
"I  don't  reckon  they're  going  tew  do  me  no  good, 
whatever." 

"Well,  we'll  see — I  hope  the  words  have  a  double 
meaning,"  said  the  woman.  "How  do  your  eyes 
feel  since  our  last  treatment?" 

"They  haint  doin'  so  bad,  ma'am." 

"Then  that's  good."  While  speaking  she  had 
gone  to  the  desk  and  taken  from  their  case  a 
pair  of  shiny-rimmed  spectacles.  "Come  over  here 


160  SMILING  PASS 

to  the  window,  where  I  can  try  these  on."  The  boy 
obeyed,  listlessly.  "Look  down  towards  the  creek. 
What  do  you  see?  "  she  asked. 

"  Kaint  see  nothin',  no  haow — yes  I  kin  too.  Thar's 
someone  movin'  up  the  hill;  leastwise,  I  reckon  I 
kin  see  someone  movin'." 

A  deeply  interested  spectator,  Donald  glanced  past 
them  through  the  window  and  saw  Omie  Everage 
swinging  blithely  up  the  path  only  a  hundred  feet 
distant.  And  the  boy  thought  that  he  could  see  some- 
one moving;  this  pitiable  lad  whose  whole  world 
was  merely  a  thing  of  torturing  light  and  shadowy 
forms,  recognizable  as  people  or  inanimate  objects 
only  when  his  hands  could  almost  touch  them;  whose 
elder  brothers  and  father,  likewise  afflicted  with  the 
wasting  disease,  were  now  pigmy  figures  high  up  on 
the  mountainside,  patiently  cultivating  a  corn  field 
— as  they  had  earlier  plowed  and  planted  it — by 
kicking  their  way  along  through  the  furrows  which 
they  could  not  see;  whose  grandfather  now  sat  in  the 
sunlight,  yet  in  darkness,  before  their  cabin,  patiently 
picking  away  the  hours,  the  days,  the  years,  on  the 
strings  of  his  old  fiddle.  Decaying  age,  blighted 
manhood,  doomed  youth,  unless  .... 

He  looked  back  at  the  boy,  over  whose  tightly 
shut  eyes  Rose  was  now  adjusting  the  new  spectacles. 

"Look  .    .    .  and  see,"   she  commanded,   softly. 

For  a  moment  Desty  remained  with  eyes  closed. 
Then  he  slowly  forced  them  open.  He  uttered  a 
sharp  cry,  tore  off  the  glasses,  turned,  fled  to  the 


A  "  HOUSEWARMIN*  "  161 

opposite  corner  of  the  room  and  pressed  himself  into 
it,  trembling. 

"Oh,  my  boy!  What  is  it?  Did  the  light  hurt?" 
cried  Rose,  as  she  ran  to  his  side  and  placed  her 
arm  about  his  shoulders. 

"Taint  thet.  But,  my  Gawd,  what's  them  things 
daown  tew  the  creek,  thar?  " 

"What  things?  There's  nothing  strange  there. 
Just  an  old  cow — your  own  cow,  Desty — and  some 
chickens  and  hogs.  Yes,  and  Omie  climbing  the  path. 
Come,  put  the  glasses  on  again  and  we'll  go  back 
and  look,  together." 

After  much  urging  he  unwillingly  obeyed.  For 
some  time  he  stood  at  the  window,  speechless.  His 
expression  was  first  amazement,  then  eagerness. 
Finally  he  spoke.  "My  Gawd,  I  kin  see.  I  haint 
never  seed  before.  I  ...  I  reckon  I'll  go  home 
and  see  mammy  and  pappy." 

"Go  home,  son,"  said  Donald,  gently.  Rose  could 
not  speak.  Her  throat  was  too  full  of  tears. 

An  hour  later  Virgil  came  in,  late  to  supper  after  a 
ride  up  the  creek.  "Did  you  happen  to  see  Desty,  re- 
joicingin  hisnew  '  specs',  and  vision?  "Donald  inquired. 

"Yes,  I  stopped  to  speak  to  him  a  minute.  When 
I  got  to  Tobias  Tittle's  place  Desty  was  alternately 
feeling  of  the  different  parts  that  he  had  seen  mostly 
through  his  fingers,  putting  his  glasses  on  for  a  mo- 
ment to  see  what  they  really  looked  like,  and  then 
snatching  them  off  again." 


162  SMILING  PASS 

"Oh,  the  poor  boy!"  Camille's  exclamation  of 
pity  preceded  Rose's  question,  "But  what  on  earth 
was  he  taking  them  off  for?  Why  isn't  he  wearing 
them?" 

Virgil  seemed  loath  to  answer  for  some  reason 
and  she  repeated  her  demand. 

"I  don't  reckon  that  he's  going  to,  Rose,"  he  said, 
slowly.  "It  seems  that  that  old  preaching  fool, 
'Stammerin'  Sam',  has  been  talking  to  him  already. 
Told  him  that  getting  glasses  was  going  against  the 
Lord's  will — that  He  gave  the  people  the  kind  of 
eyes  He  meant  them  to  have,  and  that  if  he  wore 
specs  he'd  become  tee-totally  blind.  Guess  Desty 
believes  it,  for  he  took  one  look  at  me  through  them, 
and  put  them  away  in  his  pocket  as  though  he  were 
scared  .to  death." 

Donald's  fist  crashed  down  on  the  table.  On  his 
countenance  was  a  look  of  anger  such  as  his  wife 
had  seen  there  only  once  before  in  her  life.  It  fright- 
ened her. 

"And  they  call  that  damnable  heathenish  super- 
stition 'religion'!  "  he  growled  through  clinched 
teeth. 

"Hush,  hush,  Donald.  Only  a  very  few  are  like 
that,  thank  God.  It's  heart-breaking,  but  we're  go- 
ing to  change  it  somehow,  some  day.  I  feel  exactly 
as  you  do,  but  let's  not  talk  about  it  any  more  now. 
That's  the  dark  side  of  the  situation;  the  bright  one 
is  that  Margaret  and  Dr.  Hunter  will  be  here  in  a 
very  few  days  and  we  can  begin  work  in  earnest — 


A  "  HOUSEWARMIN'  "  163 

oh,  dear,  if  we  only  had  money  enough  to  put  up 
the  buildings  that  we're  going  toneed  at  the  very  start." 

"But  isn't  it  nice  that  'Uncle'  Phil  is  coming  with 
them,  for  his  vacation,  Souris? "  said  Camille,  eager 
to  lend  her  aid  in  changing  the  trend  of  thought. 

"  'Nice'  is  too  rnfld  a  word,  dear.  What  a  wonder- 
ful time  you'll  have  initiating  him  into  the  mysteries 
of  the  mountains'  life!  He'll  love  it;  especially  with 
this  particular  guide,"  she  added,  significantly. 

Virgil's  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  plate  and  his  coun- 
tenance set  and  expressionless. 

"Pourquoi  non.   Is  he  not  my  uncle,  then?" 

Rose  laughed,  lightly,  and  turned  with  a  mischie- 
vous look  towards  Donald.  "And  you,  sir!  Perhaps 
you  remember  what  you  said  about  Margaret  being 
entertaining  company  for  you,  during  the  'ten  days' 
which  you  give  her  to  stick  it  out?  " 

"Which  seems  to  leave  the  third  new-comer  all 
to  you,"  he  responded,  with  a  smile. 

"Of  course.  I  mean  to  set  him  to  work  the  in- 
stant that  he  arrives.  You  know  what  your  pam- 
phlet said:  'If  these  mountaineers  are  to  receive 
medical  help  it  must  be  carried  to  them.'  Oh,  how 
I  wish  that  it  might  be  by  you,  but  at  least  they  will 
have  one  able  doctor  riding  his  horse  over  the  hills, 
with  a  humble  nurse  tagging  along  at  his  heels  on 
muleback." 

"And  how  do  you  know  that  I  will  surrender  my 
own  special  nurse  to  him?"  Donald  challenged,  his 
face  still  wearing  its  smile,  however. 


164 SMILING  PASS 

"Of  course  you  will,  when  she  is  needed.  It's  an 
unbreakable  rule  of  the  most  noble  fraternity  of 
physicians,"  she  said,  and  he  answered  a  bit  rebel- 
liously,  "Yes,  I  suppose  that  it  is.  We  have  no  right 
to  personal  desires." 

"Donald,  I  don't  like  to  hear  you  speak  cynically, 
dear." 

"Well,  I'll  try  to  be  good.  Guess  I'm  getting  old 
—and  selfish." 

"Nonsense.  Oh,  we'll  have  a  party  for  them,  too 
— a  belated  house-warming  and  invite  all  the  world 
and  his  wife.  Almost  none  of  the  neighbors  have 
called  on  us  yet,"  she  added,  rather  plaintively. 

"And  I  guess  they're  not  likely  to,"  growled  her 
husband. 

"They'll  come;  some  day;  you  wait  and  .    .    ." 

Her  sentence  was  temporarily  interrupted  by  the 
noise  of  a  heavy  knock  on  the  porch  door,  and  she 
changed  its  ending  to,  "Maybe  that's  a  delegation 
of  welcome  this  very  minute." 

"It  certainly  looks  something  like  it,"  Virgil  called 
back  from  the  hallway  as  he  went  to  answer  the 
summons.  A  moment,  rilled  with  the  sound  of  heavy 
boots  clumping  in,  followed.  Then  he  reappeared, 
rather  startled  of  countenance.  "Some  of  the  men 
from  round  about  want  to  see  you,"  he  said,  nodding 
toward  Rose.  "It  .  .  .  it  looks  a  little  like  trouble. 
Shall  I  tell  them  ..." 

"Tell  them  that  I'll  be  right  there." 

"No,  I'll  go,"  declared  Donald,  pushing  his  chair 


A  "  HQUSEWARMIN'  "  165 

away  from  the  table  and  starting  to  get  up.  But  his 
wife  was  already  on  her  feet  and  she  pressed  him 
back,  her  hands  on  his  shoulders.  "Sit  still,  Don. 
Of  course  there's  no  danger.  I  want  to  s>ee  them." 

Undetermined  what  the  best  course  to  pursue 
was,  Donald  remained  with  the  rest,  silent  and  anx- 
ious, for  a  few  moments,  during  which  the  voices 
from  his  study — men's  voices  which  sounded  gruff 
and  unfriendly — came  to  them  down  the  hallway. 

At  length  he  could  stand  it  no  longer.  He  pulled 
himself  to  his  feet  with  a  jerk  which  sent  red-hot 
stabs  of  anguish  through  his  thigh,  grasped  Virgil's 
sleeve  and,  half-supported  by  him,  limped  painfully 
to  the  door  of  his  office,  followed  by  the  girls.  Rose 
stood  before  the  desk,  facing  him  and  likewise  a 
party  of  six  or  seven  tall  mountaineers,  whose  very 
backs  looked  hostile  and  sullen.  Among  them  he 
recognized  "Bad  Bill"  Cress  and  the  fanatical 
preacher,  "Stammerin'  Sam."  Several  of  the  men 
carried  rifles  held  in  careless  positions  by  sinewy, 
toil-hardened  hands. 

"Go  and  get  my  revolver,"  he  whispered  to  Vir- 
gil, hoarsely,  as  he  transferred  his  supporting  hand 
from  the  youth's  arm  to  the  door  casing. 

"No!"  Virgil's  voice  was  also  tense. 

Rose  was  speaking.  Her  voice  was  perfectly  con- 
trolled and  low,  but  two  red  spots  burned  on  her 
cheeks  and  her  eyes  were  flashing  angrily.  "I've 
told  you  that,  before,  Preacher  Sam.  We're  not 
missionaries.  We  haven't  the  slighest  intention  of 


166 SMILING  PASS 

trying  to  influence  the  children  in  what  you  would 
call  religious  matters.  To  me  it  is  a.  big  part  of  real 
religion  to  see  to  it  that  the  little  ones  grow  up  to 
have  bodies  and  minds  that  are  strong  and  clean. 
God  gave  them  those,  as  well  as  souls — although 
some  of  you  here  seem  to  forget  that  fact,  or  don't 
think  that  He  cares  how  things  go  on  this  earth, 
His  footstool,  so  long  as  the  soul  gets  to  Heaven. 
Let  me  help  save  their  bodies,  train  their  minds  and 
help  form  their  moral  life  on  earth,  and  I'll  promise 
to  leave  their  souls  to  you." 

There  was  a  touch  of  subtle  sarcasm  in  her  voice 
which  was  not  lost  on  Donald  and  Virgil,  but  was  on 
her  other  listeners. 

"All  we  hope  to  do  is  to  help  them,  help  all  of  you, 
if  you'll  let  us,  make  first  Beaten,  and  then,  with 
their  aid,  all  of  our  mountains,  a  better  place  to  live 
in  and  all  the  mountaineers — I'm  one  myself — 
better  people  to  live  in  them;  better  in  body  and 
mind,  I  mean. 

"Oh,  you  needn't  pull  back  your  coat  like  that, 
Billy.  I  can  see  that  revolver  in  your  belt  now,  and 
it  doesn't  frighten  me  a  particle." 

Donald  thrilled  and  Virgil  whispered,  "Bully  for 
her  .  .  .  our  Joan  of  the  Mountains." 

"Well,  I  don't  reckon  hit  dew,  gal,"  responded  Bill 
as  he  turned  to  the  others  with  a  somewhat  sheepish 
grin.  "I  knowed  your  grandpappy  and  respected 
him — he  war  a  fine  rifle  shot.  I  reckon  you  air 
maounting,  at  heart,  and  we-all  haint  much  skeered 


A"HOUSEWARMIN'  "  167 

on  your  account,  whatever.  What  you've  said  is 
good  enough  fer  me.  But  what  abaout  them  others? 
We  kaint  sorter  figer  which  way  Virgie's  aimin', 
and  we  don't  take  up  much  with  furriuers  and  fur- 
rin'  idees." 

"And  we-all  air  aimin'  tew  see  thet  they  don't 
make  no  mischief,  hyarabouts,  thet's  all,"  broke 
in  another. 

"You  needn't  threaten,"  she  flashed.  "I've  told 
you  where  I  stand,  and  I  pledge  myself  for  the  others. 
Friends  ..."  she  added,  her  voice  taking  on  an 
appealing  tone.  "I  love  these  mountains;  I  was 
raised  here.  I  love  the  mountain  people,  too.  Do  you 
reckon  I'm  aiming  to  do  anything  that  isn't  right? 
Or  that  my  husband  and  friends  would? 

"  Come  in,  Donald,"  she  called,  beckoning  to  him. 
"Come  in  and  meet  some  of  our  friends  and  neigh- 
bors— who  are  going  to  help  us  make  these  hills  part 
of  America,  again." 


CHAPTER  IH 

PROMISES 

"I'VE  got  to  run  over  and  dress  Aunt  Lissy's  leg, 
Donnie,  dear,"  announced  Rose,  appearing  with  the 
baby  in  the  door  of  the  combination  office-living 
room  in  "The  House  of  Happiness."  "I  may  make 
another  professional  visit  or  two,  but  I'll  hurry 
back.  Of  course  I  must  be  home  when  Phil,  Margaret 
and  Dr.  Hunter  arrive.  Just  to  think  that  they  will 
actually  be  here  tonight!  We  got  the  cot  beds  for 
the  men  to  bunk  on  in  the  hospital  just  in  time,  didn't 
we?" 

"Yes.  I'll  be  glad  to  see  them,  too.  Who's  going 
to  play  nurse  for  Junie  while  you're  gone?" 

"Well,  Camille  is  busy  with  the  class  in  domestic 
science  which  she's  already  started  among  the  older 
girls — at  present  it  consists  mainly  in  having  them 
scrub  and  clean;  but  she's  going  to  be  a  wonderful 
help  when  we  can  start  training  courses  in  weaving, 
too.  She  learned  that  in  the  Convent,  you  know. 
Omie  is  with  her,  so  I  reckon  that  you  are." 

"Thought  so.  Well,  the  nurse  is  willing.  Hand  her 
over." 

He  held  out  his  muscular  arms  to  receive  his  adored 
daughter,  who  wiggled  in  mid-air  with  babyish  delight. 
168 


PROMISES  169 


"I'll  get  the  wonderful  pen  that  Virgie  made  for 
her,  and  put  it  close  to  your  chair,  so  that  you  can 
reach  her,"  said  his  wife.  "What  a  dear  that  boy  is. 
He'll  make  a  perfect  'pappy,'  some  day,"  she  went 
on  as  she  brought  it. 

"Right.  A  good  son  usually  does,  and  he's  that. 
I  liked  the  boy  the  first  moment  I  saw  him,  but  the 
way  he  spoke  of  his  mother  when  he  brought  her  here 
settled  the  matter." 

"It  was  lovely;  but  why  shouldn't  he  have  said  it? 
Of  course,  she's  unpolished — mountain  timber  in  the 
rough,  but,  like  it,  fine  and  sound  to  the  heart.  / 
love  her." 

"Yes.  She's  great.  But  in  this  present  age  of  the 
world  too  many  youths — and  maidens  as  well — , 
when  they  become  educated  a  bit  above  their  fam- 
ily's station  in  life,  are  superciliously  ashamed  of 
their  parents;  more  shame  to  them." 

"I  like  the  way  in  which  you  call  him  'son',  Don. 
And  so  does  he,"  remarked  Rose. 

"Perhaps  he  will  be  that  some  day.  How  would 
you  like  the  idea  of  a  son-in-law  only  six  years  younger 
than  yourself?" 

His  wife  laughed.  "Good  gracious,  do  you  think 
that  he  has  designs  on  Junie  already,  and  would  be 
willing  to  wait  all  those  years?" 

"Well,  hardly.  But  we've  more  than  once  threat- 
ened to  adopt  Camille  legally,  you  know.  And  he 
)> 

"He  does  nothing  of  the  sort.     They're  just  like 


170  SMILING  PASS 

brother  and  sister.  Besides,  knowing  what  a  won- 
derful girl  she  really  is,  and  how  dear  Philip  is,  too, 
I  can't  help  hoping  a  tiny  bit  ... " 

"Oh,  I  know  your  nefarious  schemes;  but  they 
are  just  like  uncle  and  niece,"  he  mocked.  "One 
fictitious  relationship  would  count  no  more  than  the 
other,  if  the  real  call  should  come." 

"Well,  I'm  not  contemplating  any  intrigues  in 
that  direction,  anyway.  It's  too  dangerous  a  busi- 
ness, and  we've  enough  of  that  kind  on  hand,  as  it  is. 
Good-bye,  man  of  wrath  and  angel  child." 

She  kissed  them  both,  tenderly,  and  ran  gaily  out 
of  the  room.  With  a  smile  on  his  strong  face  Donald 
watched  her  go.  Was  it  possible  that  she  was  really 
grown  up,  a  wife — his  wife — and  a  mother?  Her 
graceful  form  seemed  scarcely  more  mature  than  on 
the  evening  when  he  had  first  seen  her,  standing 
barefoot  before  the  fireplace  in  Big  Jerry's  cabin; 
her  face  was  as  fair,  her  complexion  as  clear  as  then. 
Only  her  eyes  and  mouth  had  altered — from  those 
of  a  care-free  child  to  a  woman  who  had  known 
love — and  pain.  Donald  glanced  down  at  his  own 
almost  helpless  body  and  the  smile  faded.  How  un- 
fair it  was  for  her,  in  her  vigorous  prime,  to  be  tied 
to  a  cripple! 

His  eyes  traveled  to  the  wall  over  his  desk  where 
were  tacked  two  cards  bearing  little  mottoes,  devised 
by  Rose  and  neatly  lettered  by  Camille.  The  first  ran : 

"HAPPINESS  IS  BORN  OF  HELPFUL- 
NESS;" 


PROMISES  171 


[G  PASS 

S 


The  second: 
'SMILING  PASS.    From  Shadow  to  Sunshine. 

Ierve  always 
acrifice  when  needs  be 
ave  the  helpless 

AND 
mile!" 
He  sighed. 

The  sound  of  heavy  footsteps  in  the  little  hallway 
caused  him  to  turn  just  as  Judd  entered  the  room, 
followed  by  a  keen-visaged  man,  dressed  in  town 
clothes  with  the  addition  of  leather  leggings,  which 
indicated  that  he  had  ridden  thither  on  horseback. 
"Whar's  Smiles,  Don?  Gone  aout?  Pshaw,  thet's 
too  bad.  This  gentleman  is  lawyer  Combs  from  daown 
in  Fayville — Dr.  MacDonald."  As  the  two  clasped 
hands  Judd  continued.  "John  Combs  is  the  feller 
that  incorporated  your  Community  Center,  and  he's 
also  brung  up  the  deed  that  she  asked  me  to  get 
drawed.  Hite'll  back  daown  on  hit  at  the  last  minute 
though — see  if  he  don't.  And  I  hopes  he  does.  I 
say  naow,  as  I've  said  a  hundred  times  before,  pay- 
ing a  thousand  dollars  for  this  wora-aout  track  of 
maountingside  is  plumb  throwin'  money  intew 
quicksand." 

"We're  not  buying  property  as  such,  merely,  old 
man,"  smiled  the  other,  "It's  for  a  cause.  Rose 
insists  that  I'm  paying  that  to  the  mountains — and 
their  future  generations  of  dwellers — as  the  price  of 
health  which  the  hills  are  to  restore  to  me." 
V  "The  which  they  haint  done  yet,  whatever!" 


172  SMILING  PASS 

"Well,  she  feels  certain  that  I'm  going  to  collect 
some  day,  and  I'm  willing  to  humor  her,  although 
it  about  cleans  out  the  exchecquer." 

"You've  done  nothin'  but  humor  her  from  the 
start,"  exclaimed  the  mountaineer. 

Donald  merely  continued  to  smile,  tolerantly, 
and  their  caller  broke  into  the  conversation  to  ex- 
plain the  conditions  in  the  deed  which  he  had  pre- 
pared. Donald  found  the  man  of  law,  with  his  anec- 
dotes of  the  County  Court,  such  entertaining  com- 
pany that  he  insisted  upon  his  remaining  for  nearly 
two  hours.  Finally  Mr.  Combs  put  his  oft-repeated 
declaration  that  he  must  be  starting  into  action  to 
the  extent  of  rising,  whereupon  Judd  kicked  him 
none  too  gently  on  the  ankle,  and  grimaced  mean- 
ingly when  he  looked  around. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  almost  forgot  one  other  thing,"  said 
the  lawyer,  as  he  fished  another  paper  out  of  his 
pocket.  "I  guess  you  knew  that  Amos'  brother,  and 
nephew  have  been  evading  the  long  arm  of  the  law 
for  pretty  nearly  a  year." 

Donald  nodded. 

"Well,  I've  finally  fixed  it  up  so  that  they  can 
return  home  upon  the  filing  of  a  bond,  in  the  penal 
sum  of  a  thousand  dollars  each,  to  keep  the  peace. 
Judd  wants  to  get  them  located  here — says  he'll  give 
Bud  a  job  tending  the  new  store,  and  he  wants  to 
get  Mai  vary  in  your  school,  when  it  starts;  he'll 
vouch  for  their  good  behavior." 

"  Good  Lord,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  that  a  serious 


PROMISES  173 


charge  like  the  one  against  them  will  be  dropped  as 
informally  as  that,  here?" 

"Sure.  The  Court'll  take  bonds  for  almost  anything 
— even  straight  murder.  And  a  bond  doesn't  amount 
to  much  more  than  a  scrap  of  paper,  for  that  matter. 
We  mountaineers  may  have  a  peculiar  code  of  honor 
in  some  respects,  but  one  next  to  never  jumps  bail 
and,  when  he  does,  the  Court  takes  action  against 
the  sureties  more  seldom  still.  It's  a  matter  of  form. 
Judd's  going  on  the  bond  himself,  and  wanted  me  to 
ask  you — the  corporation,  I  mean — to  do  the  same." 

"Could  it?"    Donald  demanded. 

"Yes."  The  lawyer  grinned.  "I  put  that  in  the 
articles  of  agreement.  Charitable  institutions  fre- 
quently do,  here." 

"Hmmm.  Well,  I  don't  know.  Of  course  I'd  like 
to  oblige  Judd,  but  .  .  . " 

"There's  no  'but'  about  it."  Rose,  who  had  heard 
the  last  of  the  conversation  from  the  doorway,  now 
spoke  positively  as  she  came  forward.  "Of  course 
we'll  do  it!  It's  one  way  of  proving  to  men  like  Bud 
and  boys  like  Mally  the  sincerity  of  our  purpose  to 
help  our  neighbors  in  every  possible  way  towards 
better  lives,  even  if  there  were  the  danger  of  being 
held  liable.  But  I'll  trust  Judd  to  keep  his  promise 
and  Mr.  Combs  to  keep  us  out  of  trouble,  if  anything 
should  go  wrong." 

"Shame  on  you;  conniving  at  the  avoidance  of  a 
legal  obligation,"  laughed  her  husband.  "Well, 
gentlemen,  there  you  are.  The  Big  Chief  has  spoken 


174 SMILING  PASS 

— although  I  suppose  that  Judd  would  say  that  I 
shouldn't  humor  her.  Since  we're  incorporated  I 
suppose  that  the  directors  will  have  to  vote  on  the 
matter,  however,  and  Virgil  ..." 

"I  don't  guess  that  he'll  be  agreeable,"  Judd  broke 
in,  rather  sullenly  and  Rose  flashed  back,  "You 
don't  know  Virgie,  then.  All  the  narrowness  and 
family  feud  instinct  were  wiped  out  of  his  nature 
when  he  was  in  the  army.  You  may  laugh  at  his 
'Vision'  as  I  call  it;  but  you'll  find  it  will  hold  true 
in  a  matter  like  this  one.  And  I  wish  from  the  bottom 
of  my  heart,  Judd,  that  you'd  try  harder  to  put 
away  your  own  veiled  animosity.  We  must  all  pull 
together  if  we're  going  to  put  this  big  thing  over, 
and  if  you're  to  be  general  manager  you've  got  to 
pull  with  every  single  member  of  the  team." 

"  'Haint  the  individual  nor  the  army  as  a  whole, 

But  the  everlastin'   teamwork  o'  every  bloomin' 
soul ',  "  quoted  Donald. 

Judd  did  not  answer,  but  he  looked  a  little  ashamed, 
and  Rose  was  wise  enough  to  drop  the  subject. 

"Oh,  did  you  bring  the  deed,  Mr.  Combs?"  she 
asked  eagerly.  "There's  Humpty  Kite,  like  Gunga 
Din,  carrying  water  now,  and  he  can  get  his  wife  in 
a  minute." 

The  lawyer  pointed  to  the  instrument  which  Don- 
ald had  laid  on  his  desk,  and  the  latter  humorously 
reached  for  his  checkbook  and  proceeded  to  reduce 
the  slender  balance  appearing  therein  by  a  thousand 
dollars. 


PROMISES  175 


A  few  moments  later  a  little  group  stood  solemnly 
in  the  widespreading  shade  of  the  giant  sycamore 
tree  beside  "The  House  of  Happiness."  Virgil  only 
was  missing — he  was  on  his  way  back  from  Fayville 
with  the  three  newcomers,  pressing  his  team  steadily, 
for  the  clouds,  hanging  low  above  the  mountain- 
tops,  had  already  sent  down  one  brief  deluge  of  rain 
and  momentarily  threatened  another.  But  there 
was  a  blaze  of  temporary  sunlight  flooding  the  hillside 
at  Smiling  Pass,  and  its  freshly  washed  forest  backed 
the  group  like  a  great  green  tapestry  hung  down 
from  heaven. 

There  stood  the  burden-bowed  man,  who  was 
about  to  sell  his  fifty-acre  homestead;  his  weary  wife 
— toil-worn  and  pitiable  like  himself — Rose,  Judd, 
Camille  and  Omie,  and  a  few  of  the  curious  children 
at  a  respectful  distance.  Donald  was  above  them 
on  the  veranda  leaning  heavily  upon  his  crutches. 

With  patient  effort  Humpty  Hite  affixed  his  un- 
certain signature  at  the  bottom  of  the  deed — between 
his  trips  for  wood,  coal  and  water  during  the  past 
few  weeks  Rose  had  taught  him  to  write  that  much. 
The  scrawling  letters  seemed  somehow  to  typify  the 
man — twisted  they  were,  and  filled  with  the  pain 
of  their  making,  yet  they  stood  as  the  beginning  of 
better  things;  education,  and  all  the  unfolding  life 
that  it  would  bring.  His  wife,  still  in  the  full  shadow, 
took  the  pen  in  trembling  fingers  and  made  her  cross 
— another  symbol. 

"That's  fine,  Humpty;  I'm  proud  of  you,"  said 


176  SMILING  PASS 

Rose,  as  he  passed  the  paper  back  to  her.  "And  you 
have  the  right  to  feel  very  proud  today.  You  can 
write  your  name  and,  besides,  you  are  the  father  of 
all  the  work  which  we  are  doing — and  the  greater 
work  to  be,  which  is  some  day  to  help  every 
man,  woman  and  child  hereabouts  to  learn  how  to 
read  and  write  and  live  clean,  healthy  and  happy 
lives.  And  here  is  your  check — a  whole  thousand 
dollars,  Humpty." 

His  gnarled,  stiffened  fingers  took  the  oblong  piece 
of  paper  which  she  held  out  to  him.  For  an  instant 
he  looked  blankly  at  it,  the  transfiguring  illumi- 
nation fading  slowly  from  his  face.  Tears  came  into 
his  weak  blue  eyes. 

Suddenly  he  fell  to  his  knees  on  the  turf  and  lifted 
his  arms  above  his  head.  "Gawd!"  he  wailed.  "I 
hev  give  up  the  land  of  my  fathers.  I  hev  writ  my 
name  and  deeded  hit  away — fer  nothin'!  A  little 
piece  of  paper;  the  land  of  my  fathers!" 

"No,  no,  Kite!"  cried  the  woman,  her  own  eyes 
brimming.  "It's  money — a  whole  thousand  dollars. 
You  can  take  it  tomorrow  to  the  bank  at  Fayville 
and  get  real  silver  dollars  for  it,  if  you  wish.  Truly 
you  can." 

He  slowly  got  to  his  feet,  a  look  of  childish  shame 
on  his  countenance.  "Maybe  I  kin.  I  trusts  your 
word;  but  I  haint  never  hed  nothin'  like  this  afore.  But 
ef  hit  air  so — and  I  haint  doubtin'  hit — a  thousand 
dollars  haint  filled  with  no  meanin'  tew  me.  Please, 
ma'am;  you-all  take  thet '  a  thousand  dollars'  and 


PROMISES  177 


fer  hit  git  me  more  land,  fer  me  and  my  children  tew 
set  on." 

"Oh,  we  will.  I  promise  it,  Humpty,"  cried  Rose. 
"We'll  buy  another  farm  somewhere  right  near  here 
and  'riz'  you  a  new  home  on  it,  not  like  your  old 
cabin,  but  a  real  dwelling  like  The  House  of  Happi- 
ness. You  can  pay  for  it  in  something  better  than 
money  ..." 

"I  allaows  you  means  'work,'  ma'am." 

"Yes." 

"I'll  do  hit.  I'll  work  my  fingers  tew  the  bone 
fer  ye  and  the  Smilin'  Pass  thing.  I  promise,  too." 

"Hi!"  Up  the  creek  road  came  Virgil's  strong 
young  voice  in  gay  greeting.  The  jolt  wagon,  with 
its  three  passengers — two  of  whom  were  waving 
madly — had  turned  the  corner. 

It  was  well  on  in  the  evening.  The  spasmodic 
storm  had  recommenced  with  new  fury  and,  added 
to  the  downpour,  were  almost  continuous  flashes  of 
sharp  lightning  and  a  thundering  cannonade  whose 
echoes  leaped  from  mountain  to  mountain. 

Weary  with  their  trip,  the  three  new  arrivals  had 
early  retired,  Margaret  to  her  tiny  bedroom  next 
to  Camille's,  Philip  and  Dr.  Hunter  to  their  tempor- 
ary camping  quarters  in  the  little  hospital  building. 

Wondering  if  the  city  girl  who,  during  the  evening, 
had  alternated  between  spells  of  silence  and  of  fever- 
ish vivacity,  were  frightened  by  the  violence  of  the 
storm,  Rose  went  to  her  door  and  knocked,  at  the 
same  time  announcing  her  identity. 


178  SMILING  PASS 

"Come  in,"  Margaret  called  in  a  muffled  voice. 

Rose  entered  and  quickly  closed  the  door  behind 
her.  On  the  narrow,  iron  bed,  which  she  had  moved 
into  the  center  of  the  room  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
avoid  two  steadily  dripping  leaks  in  the  roof,  sat 
Margaret,  upright  and  clutching  the  edge  with  her 
daintily  manicured  nails.  She  was  clad  in  a  night- 
gown, cut  low  in  the  neck  with  lace  insertion,  over 
which  she  had  thrown  a  silk  kimona,  and  her  small 
bare  feet  were  thrust  into  embroidered  bedroom 
slippers,  her  lustrous,  wavy  hair,  unbraided,  fell  in 
a  golden  cascade  over  shoulders  which  trembled  and 
shrank  at  every  fresh  thunder  crash. 

"Oh,  my  poor  child!"  cried  her  hostess,  as  she 
ran  to  the  bed  and  gathered  the  girl  in  her  mothering 
embrace.  "You're  frightened  to  death.  Is  it  the 
storm?  " 

A  fresh  downpour  descended  upon  the  roof  with 
such  a  trip-hammering  that  the  first  of  Margaret's 
answer  was  inaudible,  but,  as  the  noise  lessened  a 
little,  the  woman  heard  her  shudder,  "Oh,  it's  every- 
thing" 

She  turned,  flung  her  arms  tightly  about  Rose's 
neck  and  pressed  her  face  against  her  breast.  For 
a  few  moments  Smiles  merely  held  her  close,  croon- 
ing comforting  words.  Then  Margaret  began  to  sob, 
not  too  loudly,  but  with  an  intensity  that  shook 
her  whole  slender  body.  Finally  she  went  on  to  speak: 

"Oh,  it's  awful,  Rose!  I  hate  it,  loathe  it  all.  I 
was  nearly  shaken  to  death  and  drowned,  too,  riding 


PROMISES  179 


those  miles  and  miles  in  that  awful  wagon,  although 
I  couldn't  show  how  I  felt,  with  .  .  .  with  Philip 
there.  He  ...  he  was  unbearable,  too.  He  scarcely 
spoke  to  me  on  the  whole  trip  south,  and  although 
Dr.  Hunter  t  ...  t  ...  tried  to  be  nice  you 
know  how  much  he  talks.  And  I  thought  it  was  going 
to  be  such  a  bu  .  .  .  bu  .  .  .  beautiful  journey." 

The  girl  paused  and  Rose — sympathetic  as  she 
really  was,  and  disturbed,  too,  over  Philip's  inexcus- 
able behavior — could  not  but  smile  a  little. 

"And  now  it's  .  .  .  it's  all  horrid  here.  How  can 
anybody  call  this  'romantic'?  I  know  that  you  wrote 
me  how  it  would  be;  but  you  didn't  make  it  half 
bad  enough.  It  rains  all  the  time  and  the  mountains 
aren't  pretty — just  dreary  and  desolate — and  the 
homes  .  .  .  Oh."  She  shuddered. 

"Is  that  all?"  inquired  Rose,  her  fighting  spirit 
beginning  to  stir. 

"No.  The  ...  the  little  children— dirty  little 
things — wouldn't  answer  when  I  waved  to  them." 
She  was  crying  again;  mole  hills  had  assumed  moun- 
tainous proportions  in  her  vision,  distorted  by  weari- 
ness and  disappointment.  "And  the  food — how  can 
you  eat  it,  after  living  in  the  city?  But  I  suppose  it's 
different  with  .  .  .  with  you;  you  were  raised  here 
and  .  .  ." 

"Stop!"  With  sudden  decision  Rose  took  the  shak- 
ing, almost  hysterical  girl  firmly  by  the  shoulders 
and  forced  her  to  sit  upright.  "Listen  to  me,  Mar- 
garet," she  said,  quietly.  "I  know  that  you're  tired 


180  SMILING  PASS 

out  after  that  hard  trip,  and  that  your  nerves  are 
unstrung  a  little — this  is  the  worst  tempest  we've 
had  this  summer.  I'm  terribly  sorry  for  you,  but 
you've  got  to  stop.  You  have  had  your  cry,  and 
made  all  the  complaints  you  can  think  of;  at  least 
I  hope  so,  for  you  have  already  shown  a  spirit  which 
is  neither  very  brave,  just,  nor  charitable." 

"I  .  .  .1  didn't  mean  to  be  .  .  .be  like  that, 
Rose,"  whimpered  the  rather  surprised,  spoiled  girl, 
as  she  began  to  fumble  on  the  bed  for  the  moist 
handkerchief  which  had  fallen  to  the  floor.  The 
other  supplied  her  need,  even  to  wiping  her  eyes, 
as  though  she  had  in  fact  been  a  small  child. 

"Of  course  you  didn't.  But  you  were;  not  that  I 
mind,  for  a  case  of  'nerves'  is  forgivable  under  the 
circumstances,  and  things  will  all  look  different  to 
you  by  tomorrow's  sunshine.  But  I  am  worried  about 
your  'nerve,'  and  beginning  to  wonder  if  after  all 
Philip  wasn't  right  when  he  told  me  ..."  She 
caught  herself  up  too  late,  for  Margaret  was  crying, 
"So  it  was  he -who  said  it!  I  knew  it.  I  used  to  think 

he  was was  almost  perfect 

but  he's  the  most  ungallant  man  I  ever  knew.  I 
despise  him.  I  won't  stay  here  with  him;  I  won't 

stay  anyway you're  all  as  horrid 

as  you  can  be.  Father  warned  me.  He  was  horrid, 
too.  He's  always  given  me  all  the  money  I  want, 
but  this  time  he  wouldn't  let  me  have  a  cent  more 
than  my  fare  back  home.  He  ...  he  said  he  knew 
I'd  start  back  inside  of  a  week  and  I  shall." 


PROMISES  181 


"So  Philip  was  right  in  his  judgment,  after  all. 
You're  nothing  but  a  society  dabbler  in  uplift;  'un- 
stable'. And  the  vision  which  you  made  so  much  of 
in  your  childish  letters  was  nothing  but  a  ...  a 
mirage  in  your  silly  little  mind.  You  .  .  .  you're 
like  your  sister  Marion,  after  all — a  fickle  woman." 

If  Donald  could  have  heard  his  wife  utter  these 
sentences  his  mind  might  well  have  reverted  to  the 
by-gone  day  when  she  had  said  to  him,  "But  a 
Rose  has  thorns."  There  was  not  a  trace  of  a 
smile  on  her  face  now;  her  voice  was  bitter, 
and  her  words  were  lashes  which  cut  to  the  quick. 
Yet  she  was  not  angry,  but  strangely  cool  and  calcu- 
lating. A  double  cause  was  at  stake — their  own,  and 
a  woman's  worth. 

"You  .  .  .  you  dare  to  talk  like  that  to  me? 
Oh!" 

Margaret  sprang  to  her  feet  with  eyes  and  cheeks 
flaming.  For  an  instant  Rose  thought  that  the  girl 
was  actually  about  to  strike  her,  for  she  had  flung  up 
both  arms  with  hands  clenched.  Instead  she  threw 
herself  prone  on  the  bed,  shaking  convulsively. 

"Poor  child!  I  shouldn't  have  spoken  that  way. 
I  didn't  really  mean  it  at  all,  dear,"  exclaimed  the 
woman,  pityingly,  as  she  again  threw  her  arms  about 
Margaret's  form.  "Sometimes  a  merciful  surgeon 
has  to  use  a  knife  to  cure.  That  was  what  I  was  doing, 
Margaret — I  believe  that  I  can  speak  like  'man  to 
man'  now.  I've  believed  in  you  from  the  start;  I 
believe  now,  and  mean  to  forget  every  word  that 


182 SMILING  PASS 

you've  said  tonight.  Tomorrow,  when  the  sun  shines, 
we'll  both  laugh  at  our  own  little  tempest,  and  if 
you'll  just  stay  a  week — no,  ten  days — the  vision 
will  come  back  and  nothing  will  be  able  to  make  you 
leave  until  your  work  is  done,  here.  Forgive  me  for 
having  been  cruel,  dear.  And  promise  me  just  ten 
days." 

The  girl  slowly  got  into  a  sitting  posture  and  an- 
swered in  a  very  little  and  humble  voice,  "It  is  not 
for  me  to  forgive,  Smiles.  I've  been  cruel  and  silly 
— a  little  fool.  But  .  .  .  but  I  don't  want  to  stay, 
now.  You  said  that  you  wouldn't  be  very  angry  if 
I  came  and  went  right  back  home." 

"And  I  shan't.  But  ten  days  is  such  a  tiny  time. 
Please  promise  me  that." 

"Very  well.  I  ...  I  don't  want  to,  but  ... 
but  I'll  promise,"  Margaret  answered,  slowly. 

Rose  kissed  her,  and  the  kiss  was  illuminated  by 
the  light  of  the  full  moon,  just  breaking  through 
the  clouds. 


CHAPTER   IV 

MARGARET'S  PLEDGE 

THE  days  which  followed  found  the  two  promises 
fulfilled  to  the  letter.  Humpty  Kite's  heart  thrilled 
with  the  pride  of  ownership  of  a  new  tract  of  virgin 
mountainside,  not  far  distant;  Margaret  Treville 
was  still  one  of  the  family  circle,  and  neither  she  nor 
Smiles  referred  by  so  much  as  a  single  syllable  to 
their  talk  on  the  night  of  her  arrival. 

Whenever  Donald  commented  to  his  wife  on  the 
girl's  pallor — for  she  ate  almost  nothing — and  her 
unnatural  quietness,  Rose  invariably  replied,  "She's 
homesick,  naturally.  Let  her  alone;  she'll  get  ac- 
climated." 

Margaret  took  her  part  in  the  normal  life  of 
the  household  and  entered  into  the  almost  daily 
discussions  relating  to  the  future,  but  did  it 
listlessly.  And  as  often  as  possible  she  slipped  away, 
to  take  long  walks  alone  up  the  mountainsides  and 
sit,  scarcely  moving,  for  many  minutes  on  some 
out-jutting  rock  o'erlooking  the  enclosing  hills  and 
the  creek,  twining  itself  about  their  feet.  Usually 
she  would  return  with  her  arms  full  of  flowers — late 
primroses,  and  big,  flame-colored  bells  of  the  wild 
honeysuckle,  purple  cranesbill,  rattlesnake  weed  with 
183 


184 SMILING  PASS 

its  tiny  yellow  blossoms  and  rare  late  sprays  of  pink 
mountain  laurel. 

And  Rose  would  smile  a  little.  Certain  spiritual 
battles  must  be  fought  out  alone,  and  the  soul  is  so 
near  akin  to  Mother  Nature,  the  wise  counselor, 
that  in  the  silent  places  it  can  hear  her  whisperings. 

Towards  Philip  she  was  almost  pathetically  meek, 
for  a  modern  and  highly  attractive  society  girl  who 
was  accustomed  to  have  scores  of  men  at  her  feet; 
with  Donald  she  was  friendly  and  companionable, 
although  he  privately  complained  of  her  lack  of  ani- 
mation; but  Virgil  was  the  only  one  towards  whom 
she  turned  for  any  real  comradeship.  Clearly  the 
mountain  youth,  with  his  unquenchable  enthusiasm, 
interested  her  and  his  eagerness  brought  occasional 
brief  responsive  gleams  to  her  own  eyes. 

And  Virgil  was  both  pleased  and  flattered  at  the 
partiality  shown  to  him  by  this  highly  bred  girl  of 
the  city,  the  more  so  because  he  found  himself  all  at 
once  very  lonely. 

Camille,  his  little  chum,  was  too  busy  fulfilling 
Rose's  prophecy  and  applying  herself  to  'Uncle 
Phil/  to  be  with  him  at  all.  At  least,  so  it  seemed  to 
Virgil,  suddenly  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  she  never 
had  been  with  him,  alone.  Rose  had  early  made  it 
clear  to  both  of  them  that  they  must  from  the  start 
live  up  to  the  rules  which  were  to  apply  to  the  school 
when  it  should  actually  be  started;  and  mountain 
nature  made  strict  regulations  for  mixed  companion- 
ship imperative. 


MARGARET'S  PLEDGE          185 

But  if  Margaret  remained  distrait,  Philip  went  as 
far  to  the  contrary. 

Within  a  week,  alone  or  with  Camille,  he  visited 
almost  every  cabin  up  and  down  the  creek  and 
could  address  by  name  most  of  the  men,  besides 
being  able  to  hail  without  error  Isom's  Isom  and 
Urn's  Isom,  Balis  and  Simeon,  Lige,  Dasie,  Sebrie, 
Shade,  Ballard,  Alger,  Cricket,  Louranie  and  the 
twins,  Less  and  Fess — among  the  boys,  and  Versa, 
Verta,  Vesa,  Kanzali  and  Nonnie  among  the  younger 
girls.  More  than  once  his  entertaining  accounts  of 
his  adventures  caused  consternation  in  The  House 
of  Happiness,  particularly  on  the  day  when  he  came 
striding  in  with  beaming  face  late  to  supper,  to  an- 
nounce that  he  had  that  afternoon  killed  a  rattle- 
snake and  nearly  been  killed  as  a  "revenuer,"  on 
the  mountaintop. 

"If  you  don't  quit  butting  into  everywhere  and 
everything  in  this  county,  you  will  get  a  bullet  be- 
tween the  ribs  some  day,  in  spite  of  that  cheerful 
grin  of  yours,"  declared  his  brother-in-law.  "Ignor- 
ance of  the  law — whether  of  the  land  or  the  hills — 
is  no  excuse,  you  know.  /  know  what  I  am  talking 
about.  I  stumbled  on  a  moonshine  still  once  my- 
self, with  unpleasant  consequences." 

Philip  laughed.  "But  I'm  a  law-breaker  myself," 
he  replied.  "Smell!" 

He  emitted  a  breath  strongly  alcoholic  and  Rose 
cried,  "Philip  Bentley!  You  promised  .  .  .  ." 

"I  know.    I  haven't  been  drinking — just  sampling 


186 SMILING  PASS 

some  200  proof  moonshine;  and  once  is  decidedly 
enough.  I  couldn't  go  home  and  admit  to  the  boys 
that  I  didn't  know  what  it  was  like.  Now  could  I?  " 

Rose  had  to  smile,  reprovingly.  "What  hap- 
pened?" she  asked. 

"Oh,  I  just  happened  to  meet  a  neighbor  of  ours 
— name  deleted  by  censor,  of  course — 'somewhere 
in  France'  and  he  threw  a  gun  on  me;  I  didn't  blame 
him;  it  would  be  foolish  for  a  man  in  his  business  to 
take  too  many  chances." 

Margaret  was  very  pale  and  looking  at  him  with 
horror  in  her  eyes. 

"I  told  him  to  shoot,  if  he  liked;  he'd  have  to  be 
a  cracking  good  marksman  to  hit  me  if  I  turned 
sidewise." 

"  'Bad  Bill'  can  hit  a  half  dollar  at  a  hundred 
paces!"  interrupted  Rose. 

"Who  said  anything  about  'Bad  Bill'?"  grinned 
Philip.  "Well  he — the  unnamed  man,  I  mean — 
naturally  didn't  show  me  his  still,  but,  after  we  had 
chatted  for  a  while,  he  mysteriously  produced  a  bottle 
of  'first  run'  and  satisfied  my  natural  curiosity  as  to 
taste  and  method  of  manufacture.  Yes,  indeed; 
I'm  now  a  self-admitted  authority  on  moonshining 
and  know  all  about  stills,  worms,  flake  stands,  thum- 
pin'  kegs,  corn  and  malt  mash — we  moonshiners 
call  it  'beer'  you  know — singlings,  doubling,  'n' 
everything.  If  you  want  to  start  a  little  private 
distillery  ..." 

"Stop  this  instant,  Phil!    You  should  be  punished 


MARGARET'S  PLEDGE          187 

for  talking  like  that  before  these  children,  even  in  a 
joke,  and  the  first  thing  you  know,  you'll  have  our 
school  raided,  even  before  it's  started." 

"I'd  be  ashamed,"  supplemented  Omie,  laughing. 

To  complete  the  category  Rose  had  likewise  put 
into  immediate  effect  her  threat  concerning  Dr. 
Hunter — "John,"  now,  after  the  custom  of  the 
country — and  they  were  away  almost  daily  for  hours 
at  a  time,  carrying  the  blessing  of  modern  medicine 
into  the  homes  where  disease  had  held  unchallenged 
sway.  At  other  times,  however,  he  seemed  to  avoid 
her  almost  pointedly — a  state  of  affairs  which  she 
set  down  to  his  natural  reticence — and  he  spent 
every  possible  moment  in  Donald's  company,  sitting, 
as  it  were,  at  the  feet  of  the  master  and  discussing 
medical  and  surgical  problems  and  theories  with  him. 

John,  too,  quickly  fitted  into  his  place  in  the 
growing  organization  with  friction  at  only  one  spot. 
When  he  and  Judd  had  been  presented  to  one  another 
on  the  evening  of  his  arrival,  each  had  acknowledged 
the  introduction  with  brief  words  and  briefer  hand- 
clasp, and  their  voices  had  equally  held  evidences  of 
the  antagonism  which  total  strangers  sometimes 
feel  towards  each  other  on  first  meeting.  Nor  did 
either,  as  the  days  passed,  attempt  to  change  the 
situation  or  show  any  increased  liking  for  the  other. 
The  fact  had  added  to  Rose's  distress  produced  by  the 
antipathy  of  Judd  towards  Virgil — for  whom  John 
seemed  to  form  an  immediate  quiet  liking — and  she 
labored  with  Judd  over  it  in  private,  but  without  effect. 


188 SMILING  PASS 

"Reckon  I  haint  got  nothin'  special  agin  him," 
he  answered.  "Jest  don't  cotton  tew  him." 

"Oh,  dear,"  she  said,  in  repeating  the  conversa- 
tion to  Donald.  "Life — this  life  especially — is  just 
one  darned  thing  after  another,  isn't  it?  We  can't 
afford  to  lose  John,  the  way  he  has  taken  hold,  and 
Judd  may  growl  all  he  likes,  but  he's  devoted  to  us 
and  our  best  point  of  contact  with  the  other  moun- 
taineers." 

"Besides  being  a  necessary  balance  wheel  to  cer- 
tain flywheels  with  whom  I  am  acquainted." 

Late  on  the  afternoon  of  the  ninth  day  after  the 
arrival  of  the  newcomers  Rose  and  John  rode  up  the 
steep  path,  turned  their  mounts  over  to  Judd,  who 
was  lounging  in  the  sun  on  the  porch  railing,  and  en- 
tered the  office  where  Donald  sat,  an  amateur  archi- 
tect, attempting  to  draw  the  plan  for  a  new  building 
to  be  erected  some  day,  perhaps. 

"What  a  time  we've  had,"  his  wife  exclaimed,  as 
she  dropped  into  a  chair  and  began  to  fan  herself 
with  her  becoming  shade  hat.  "We've  been  treat- 
ing '  sore  eyes '  and  stopped  at  Versa's  to  see  whether 
your  operation  had  left  a  smooth  scar,  and  her  mother 
toted  out  her  youngest  baby  to  ask  if  we  could  do 
anything  for  its  sores.  He  looks  about  as  big  as  a 
normal  week-old  baby,  and  he's  almost  a  year.  At 
first  I  couldn't  imagine  what  was  the  matter  with 
him,  for  he  seemed  to  be  actually  crusted  all  over 
with  something;  and  so  he  was — with  plain,  old-fash- 


MARGARET'S  PLEDGE          189 

ioned  dirt,  a  quarter  of  an  inch  thick,  from  the  top 
of  his  little,  absolutely  bald  head  to  the  soles  of  his 
clawlike  feet.  I  wish  that  you  might  have  seen  that 
pitiful  little  thing,  Donald." 

"Thanks,  I'd  as  lief  be  excused,"  answered  her 
husband. 

"Well,  you've  got  to  think  of  him,  for  he  typifies 
a  problem,  too.  I  was  so  shocked  and  angry  at  first 
that  I  guess  I  almost  became  profane — I  know  that 
John  did — and  when  she  explained  the  reason  for  it 
I  could  have  cried,  instead.  Such  gross  supersti- 
tions as  those  which  still  cling  in  the  clouded  minds 
of  a  few  of  these  people  are  worse  than  pitiable; 
they're  positively  criminal*" 

"Well,  what's  the  answer?"  demanded  her  hus- 
band, a  bit  impatiently. 

"It  appeared  that  some  of  them  believe  that  if  a 
new-born  baby  cries  in  a  particular  sort  of  way— 
I  couldn't  find  out  how,  exactly — it  would  die  if  they 
should  wash  it.  And  that  poor,  stunted  little  tor- 
tured body  had  never  had  a  bath!  Think  of  it,  a 
baby  like  our  own  Junie,  who  had  never  known  the 
splashing,  gurgling  delight  of  a  bath  in  soothing 
warm  water  with  sweet-smelly  soapsuds,  during  all 
its  twelve  months  of  life.  Isn't  it  criminal?  " 

"It  is.  What  did  you  do  about  it?" 

"Took  the  long  chance.  Gave  him  his  initial  bath, 
first  with  olive  oil  and  then  with  soothing  warm 
water  and  sweet-smelly  soap.  It  took  us  a  full  hour, 
after  the  preliminary  battle  was  ended,  for  we  had 


190 SMILING  PASS 

to  fight  his  mother  almost  tooth  and  nail  to  get  her 
purely  negative  assent — a  sort  of  Pontius  Pilate 
permission  in  which  she  washed  her  hands  of  the 
whole  affair.  We  even  had  to  threaten  her  with  what 
awful  imaginary  legal  agencies  would  do  if  we  reported 
the  case  to  them." 

"And  if  it  should  tie?" 

"He  won't — now.  We've  given  him  his  one  chance 
to  be  a  perfectly  healthy,  happy  baby;  the  best  of 
a  dozen  or  more  of  them.  That  is,  if  we  can  watch 
over  his  future  upbringing  a  little.  Isn't  it  time 
for  the  Council  meeting?" 

The  formation  of  a  regular  council — a  "clearing 
house  of  ideas" — even  before  the  real  enterprise 
could  be  begun,  had  been  Donald's  suggestion.  And 
it  had  already  mapped  out  a  general  policy  to  be 
pursued,  subject  to  change,  in  their  proposed  com- 
munity work  and  citizenship  training,  in  addition 
to  accepting  his  suggestion  as  to  how  they  should 
select  the  human  material  out  of  which  their 
"Mountain  Leaders  of  Men"  were  to  be  made — 
Rose  would  not  permit  anyone  to  add  any  qualify- 
ing words  to  that  declaration. 

It  was  likewise  his  suggestion  to  start  a  campaign 
for  funds  by  circularizing  the  schools,  clubs  and  in- 
stitutions with  which  they  had  severally  been  con- 
nected, sending  out  little  leaflets  setting  forth  the 
Need  and  the  Cause — although  he  had  ended  by 
declaring  that  he  had  rather  take  a  licking  than  lend 
his  name  and  influence  to  it.  "It's  a  plain  hold-up," 


MARGARET'S  PLEDGE          Iftl ' 

he  said,  and  his  wife  had  answered,  "Yes,  but  hold-j 
ups  are  the  style  nowadays  and  the  end  justifies  the 
means."  Long  before  she  came  Margaret  had  en- 
thusiastically pledged  the  graduates  of  her  Alma 
Mater  upon  her  personal  appeal  to  erect  a  Com- 
munity building,  and  after  her  arrival  she  had  gone 
so  far  towards  redeeming  her  pledge  as  to  draft  a 
little  pamphlet.  Touched  and  encouraged,  Rose 
had  thanked  her  warmly,  but  when  she  had  taken 
the  copy  alone  into  her  room  and  read  its  uncon- 
vincing platitudes  over  several  times  she  had  shaken 
her  head,  sighed  and  put  it  away  as  utterly  hope- 
less. 

On  the  heels  of  Smiles'  query  the  other  members 
of  the  council  drifted  in,  one  by  one;  Margaret, 
Camille,  Judd,  Virgie  and  Philip — numbered  with 
them  pro  tempore. 

Half-humorously  Donald  called  them  to  order, 
saying,  "  'The  tune  has  come,  the  walrus  said,  to- 
talk  of  many  things:'  of  how  and  why  and  where- 
fore, and  .  .  .  and  ..." 

"And  the  news  that  each  one  brings,"  Philip 
concluded  for  him.  "On  my  own  behalf  I  beg  form- 
ally to  report  that  I've  carried  out  my  threat  and 
organized  most  of  the  small  boys  of  Beaten  into  a 
strictly  unofficial  troup  of  Boy  Scouts — a  thing 
which  I  know  absolutely  nothing  about  and  am 
therefore  well  qualified  to  do.  When  I  am  gone  Virgie 
can  doubtless  get  hold  of  some  books  on  the  sub- 
ject and  carry  it  on — if  he  wishes  and  Margaret 


192  SMILING  PASS 

approves,  of  course.  It  may  not  fit  into  her  college 
taught  scheme  for  saving  the  world." 

The  girl  flushed  and  bit  her  lips  to  stop  their  trem- 
bling and  Rose  barely  checked  herself  from  uttering 
the  hot  rebuke  which  would  have  only  made  mat- 
ters worse.  Philip,  ordinarily  the  best-natured  and 
kindliest  of  men,  was  frequently  guilty  of  similar 
thrusts  at  Margaret  and  his  sister  was  much  dis- 
tressed by  them. 

"The  Scout  Oath  happened  to  hit  my  fancy  when 
I  heard  it  once  and  I  remember  enough  of  it,  I  think, 
to  start  them  off.  Say,  you  should  hear  one 
little  ragamuffin,  not  over  six  or  seven  years  old, 
snap  it  out;  it  really  touches  the  heartstrings  a  bit. 
His  name's  Billy— Tittle,  I  suppose  and  ..." 

"I  know  him,  poor  kiddie,"  Rose  interrupted. 
"He's  an  orphan,  the  only  child  left  alive  of  Kurt 
Tittle's  family.  Kurt  was  a  moonshiner  and  folks 
say  that  Billy  was  almost  raised  on  the  vile  stuff — 
they  gave  it  to  him  just  as  the  French  give  v in  ordi- 
naire to  little  more  than  babies."  Margaret  uttered 
a  low  exclamation  of  horror.  "I  think  the  poor  kid- 
die simply  bunks  in  at  whichever  of  his  numerous 
relations  will  keep  him,  temporarily." 

"The  same,"  Philip  responded.  "Well,  we've 
made  a  beginning.  Today,  before  turning  the  meet- 
ing into  a  baseball  game,  I  gave  them  a  highly  moral 
lecture  on  the  obligation  of  a  scout  to  tell  the  truth 
at  all  times,  so  I  imagine  that  from  henceforth  you'll 


MARGARET'S  PLEDGE  193 

have  nothing  but  little  George  Washingtons  on  this 
creek.  I'm  done." 

Virgil  spoke.  "I've  talked  with  Joel  Fugate,  who 
has  the  county  school,  and  he's  willing  to  cooperate 
with  anyone  we  may  send  to  assist  him  so  long  as 
we  have  to  let  our  children  go  to  the  old  school  house, 
for  lack  of  a  better  one." 

"Good.  Of  course  we  hope  to  get  a  real  school 
building  soon,  but  I  think  that,  when  we  do,  it  should 
be  turned  over  to  the  County.  The  more  I  think 
of  it  the  surer  I  am  that  we  want  to  divorce  our 
scheme  from  an  ordinary  school  and  follow  Mar- 
garet's outline  for  a  straight  civic  and  citizenship 
center,  laying  our  special  stress  on  vocational  train- 
ing and  character  and  leadership  building  through 
our  clubs  and  example.  Perhaps  in  that  way  we  can 
avoid  direct  and  immediate  conflict  with  settlement 
schools  like  Fayville's.  We're  already  looked  on 
askance  there,  I've  heard,"  said  Rose. 

"Then  they  may  pass  us  up  as  merely  harmless 
nuts,"  her  husband  supplemented,  and  Judd  re- 
torted, "Not  necessarily  harmless.  The  maounting 
people  may  hev  different  ideas  on  ihet  subject." 

A  slight  shuffle  of  bare  feet  in  the  doorway  caused 
them  all  to  look  around.  Before  them  stood  a  small 
and  very  grimy  boy  whose  costume  consisted  of 
part  of  a  shirt  and  a  pair  of  men's  overalls  ten  sizes 
too  large  and  unevenly  rolled  up  over  his  ankles. 
But  his  countenance,  beneath  an  uncombed  shock 


194 SMILING  PASS 

of  brown  hair  and  its  smudges  of  dirt,  was  smiling, 
bright  and  full  of  appeal. 

"Why,  heUo,  Billy  boy,"  exclaimed  Philip. 
"What  are  you  doing  here?" 

With  the  directness  of  childhood  and  mountain 
nature  combined,  the  intruder  answered,  "I  hev 
come  fer  tew  live  at  the  school  that  you-all  is  aimnV 
tew  start  hyar." 

"Well,  that  seems  to  be  settled,"  said  Donald, 
sotto  voce,  but  he  smiled  as  he  asked  aloud,  "And 
who  are  you,  son?" 

"I'm  Kurt  Tittle's  Bill.  Pappy,  he  got  hisself 
shot  last  year,  and  I  haint  never  had  no  mammy, 
I  don't  guess.  That's  why  I  kin  cum  hyar." 

"Behold  our  first  formal  applicant  for  admission 
—a  eugenic  impossibility,"  Donald  remarked. 

"But  there  are  exceptions  to  every  rule,  Don. 
He  certainly  looks  'peert' — as  Aunt  Lissy  says. 
Don't  you  think  we  might  try  him?"  Rose  begged. 

"Oh,  please!" 

The  others  turned  to  observe  that  Margaret's 
eyes  were  tear-filled  and  her  face  glowing  with  an 
entirely  new  light.  At  the  same  instant  she  sprang 
from  her  chair,  ran  to  the  boy's  side  and  kneeling, 
enfolded  him  in  her  arms.  The  dirty  overalls  and 
dainty  muslin  dress  of  the  woman  to  whom  all  grime 
was  loathsome  became  as  one. 

The  boy  squirmed  for  a  moment.  Such  a  caress 
was  a  new  experience  in  his  life  and  he  wasn't  sure 
that  he  enjoyed  it. 


MARGARET'S  PLEDGE          195 

"How  old  are  you,  Billy  boy?"  she  asked,  and 
her  voice  was  soft  and  filled  with  the  mother-note. 

"I  don't  reckon  I'm  more'n  six — or  maybe  eight." 

"And  you're  sure  that  you  want  to  come  to  our 
school?" 

"That's  what  I  wuz  aimin'  tew  do." 

"  Can  you  read  or  write  any,  now?  " 

He  shook  his  head;  then  added  more  brightly, 
"But  I  kin  make  moonshine  right  smart." 

"Don,  you  will  keep  him?  You'll  let  me  keep  him? 
Oh,  the  pity  of  it:  a  little  kiddie  who  should  have  had 
games  and  love  and  happiness  and  who  only  knows 
— moonshine.  Please,  Donald, — Rose!  If  you'll 
only  keep  him  and  have  him  adopted  by  the  Com- 
munity Center  I  promise  to  give  him  everything 
that  he  has  lacked — clothes,  education  and  .  .  . 
and  ...  a  mother's  love.  I  meant  to  go  home 

.  .  .  tomorrow.  But  I'll  stay;  I'll  stay  as  long  as 
you  and  he  need  me.  Oh,  please!"  The  tears 
were  running  down  her  cheeks. 

Philip  whistled,  softly.  "You  really  want  to  stay 
here,  always,  son?" 

"You  bet  I  does — erlong  with  this  purty  woman/'i 
answered  the  boy. 

"And  if  you  should,  will  you  promise  to  be  a  good 
boy  and  live  up  to  the  Scout  Law,  always?" 

"Reckon  I  will,  ef  I  kin  stay." 

"Let's  see  if  you  remember  the  oath." 

The  lad  straightened  up  within  Margaret's  en- 
circling arms  and  began  earnestly,  "  'On  my  honor 


196 SMILING  PASS 

I  will  dew  my  best  tew  dew  my  duty  tew  Gawd  and 
my  country  and  obey  the  Scaout  Law;  tew  help 
other  people  et  all  times,  tew  keep  myself  physic'ly 
strong,  ment'ly  awake  and  morally  straight'.  " 

"You'll  do,"  said  the  man.  "Keep  him,  Donald. 
I'll  attend  to  the  clothes  and  .  .  .  and  toy  part." 

"Well,  I'll  be  darned,  "murmured  Donald. 


CHAPTER  V 

TROUBLE 

'•'On,  how  I  wish  that  your  vacation  wasn't  so 
nearly  over,  or  that  it  might  last  forever.  I  know 
that  you  are  needed  at  the  dear  old  hospital,  but 
we  need  you  here,  too,  Philip,"  said  Rose,  as,  a  few 
days  later,  they  were  returning  from  a  walking 
trip  up  the  creek. 

"As  to  your  wish,  the  same  here  raised  to  the  nth 
power;  but  you've  as  much  need  of  another  doctor 
at  Smiling  Pass  as  you  have  of  another  head." 

"Exactly!  I  could  use  another  head  to  excellent 
advantage,  as  it  happens.  But  I  didn't  mean  that 
we  need  you  as  a  doctor;  just  as  a  man.  Donald  can 
handle  the  office  executive  end  of  the  thing  as  skil- 
fully as  he  has  done  everything  else;  but,  although 
John  is  making  good  as  physician,  he  is  too  reserved 
to  be  of  much  help  in  any  other  way,  while  Virgie 
— for  all  his  amazing  enthusiasm  and  go — is  young 
and  likely  to  err.  He  has  erred  already,  and  made 
enemies  for  us.  His  judgment  isn't  mature  and  the 
fact  that  he,  a  mountaineer,  has  seen  the  vision  and 
developed  initiative  in  himself,  makes  him  the  more 
intolerant  of  all  the  rest  who  lack  both,  as  Judd 
does.  Of  course  we've  got  to  use  every  weapon  that 
197 


198 SMILING  PASS 

comes  to  our  hands  'at  first,  and  we  may  be  able  to 
[get  some  help  from  the  older  boys,  like  Malvary 
'Amos  ..." 

"Yes.  He's  smart  as  a  whip,  and  a  mighty  good- 
looking  boy,  to  boot,"  Philip  interrupted. 

"And  therefore  dangerous,  like  all  edged  tools. 
Oh,  why  is  it  that  in  this  world  the  safe  ones  are 
usually  incompetent,  and  the  competent  ones  unsafe? 
Now  you're  both  .  .  . " 

"Incompetent  and  unsafe?"  teased  her  brother 
and  she  pinched  him. 

"Don't  joke — now.  I've  only  a  few  days  more 
before  you  go,  and  I  want  your  advice.  You 
could  be  so  helpful  in  that  way,  as  well  as  with  the 
children  and  in  the  role  of  conciliator-in- chief.  Every- 
one seems  to  like  you — goodness  knows  why!  What 
do  you  honestly  think  of  the  proposition  as  a  whole? 
I  know  that  you've  been  here  only  a  little  over  three 
weeks,  but  you  seem  to  have  grasped  the  mountain 
situation  and  the  mountaineer's  character  wonder- 
fully well." 

He  answered  seriously.  "Frankly,  Smiles,  I  don't 
know.  You  may  be  facing  utter  failure,  for  the  task 
of  butting  up  against  the  inertia  produced  by  a 
hundred  years  of  stagnation  here  is  almost  Machia- 
vellian; it's  worse  than  lifting  a  dead  load.  And  I'm 
perfectly  sure  that  if  you  take  up  this  white  man's 
burden  you'll  have  to  carry  it  for  years." 

"Don't,  don't,  Philip."  Rose's  voice  was  full  of 
pain.  "That  isn't  the  idea.  It's  to  be  a  mountaineer 


TROUBLE  199 


enterprise;  we're  merely  to  give  it  its  start.  Then 
mountain  men  capable  of  being  leaders  and  up- 
lifters — in  the  true,  not  the  cheap  city  sense  of  the 
word — will  come;  they  must  come." 

"They  must,  of  course,  unless  the  race  is  really 
lost.  And  they  will,  in  time — it's  unthinkable  that 
this  inherently  splendid  stock  should  be  allowed 
'to  perish  from  the  earth.'  But  you  are  mak- 
ing your  wish  the  fa  ...  the  mother  to  the 
thought  when  you  talk  about  a  few  years.  /  say 
the  existing  generations  are  hopeless  as  a  whole — 
you  can't  teach  an  old  dog  new  tricks — except  of 
course  for  the  inevitable  exceptions — the  Virgils. 
Don't  waste  your  time  on  them  except  to  do  what 
you  can  to  make  their  lives  more  comfortable  and 
happier.  It's  the  new  generation — almost  the  babies 
—or  nothing,  Rose;  at  least  that's  as  it  looks  to  me. 
Catch  'em  young  and  then  keep  after  them  ever- 
lastingly. Your  mountain  Moseses  are  still  in  the 
bulrushes." 

"I  suppose — my  reason  tells  me — that  you're 
right,  but  it's  awfully  discouraging.  It  all  is.  With 
the  exception  of  Virgie  and  Malvary,  who  are  al- 
ways rubbing  each  other  the  wrong  way,  there  is 
scarcely  a  soul  in  this  place  with  enough  ambition 
and  initiative  to  fill  up  the  hole  in  the  road  in  front 
of  his  cabin,  although  his  mule  stumbles  in  it  at 
least  seven  hundred  and  thirty  times  a  year.  But 
I  love  them.  There  is  gold  here,  treasure  worth 
digging  and  fighting  for,  isn't  there?" 


200  SMILING  PASS 

"Sure.  I  like  'em,  too,  immensely.  And  I'll  say 
this  much,  whether  you  folks  make  a  go  of  this  ex- 
periment or  not,  it's  the  only  solution  of  the  problem. 
They've  got  to  do  it  themselves,  some  time,  and 
through  their  own  community  organizations  and 
leaders.  The  usual  type  of  outside  help  is  all  right 
in  a  way.  So  is  morphine,  but  each  is  a  palliative, 
not  a  cure.  Knife  'em,  Rose.  Jab  it  in  and  twist  it 
around  even  if  they  kick  and  holler.  Then  if  the 
individual  patient  refuses  to  improve  'lave  him  be' 
— as  Pat  would  say." 

"If  you  could  only  stay  to  help  us!"  she  exclaimed, 
back  to  their  starting  point. 

"I'd  like  to.  But  I've  my  own  work  to  do  and  no 
excuse  like  yours  to  be  here;  I  almost  wish  I  had. 
I'm  sure  that  John  thinks  that  I'm  a  hopeless  prod- 
uct of  the  modern  city  life,  if  not  actually  effem- 
inate— his  face  showed  that  the  first  time  he  visited 
my  not  altogether  unattractive  rooms — but  at  heart 
I'm  a  hill-dweller  listening  to  the  call  of  the  wild." 

"And  so  am  I,  the  more  so  for  my  bringing-up. 
If  we  call  ourselves  'shut  in'  by  these  mountains, 
what  must  we  say  about  the  millions  who  live  their 
lives  in  city  streets  enclosed  by  brick  walls.  By  the 
way,  what  do  you  think  of  my  other  denizen  of  the 
city  now?  "  she  asked  abruptly. 

"Meaning  Margaret?  I  may  as  well  practice  what 
I  preach  to  the  Boy  Scouts  and  tell  the  truth;  which 
is  that  I'm  surprised  at  her.  She's  shown  qualities 
which  I  didn't  suspect  existed  in  her,  since  Billy  Boy 


TROUBLE  201 


appeared  at  that  psychological  moment  and  made 
his  'human  appeal.'  But,  to  be  equally  honest,  I 
don't  believe  that  it  will  last.  Just  now  she's  riding 
the  crest  of  one  of  her  impulse  waves,  but  when  it 
recedes  and  leaves  uncovered  the  mud,  and  the  rocks 
labeled  hard  labor,  she'll  start  back  home.  See  if 
she  doesn't." 

"I  don't  believe  it,  now,"  Rose  answered  stoutly. 
"Do  you  realize  that  you've  been  awfully  mean 
towards  her,  Phil?  Somehow  it  isn't  like  you." 

The  man  grew  a  trifle  red  and  looked  embarrassed. 
"Yes,  I  suppose  I  have.  It's  a  caddish  thing  to  have 
done,  too.  But  honestly — to  employ  the  language 
of  cultured  Boston — 'she  got  my  goat.'  Sarcasm 
is  an  assassin's  weapon;  it  stabs  in  the  back,  but 
I've  half-hoped  that  I  might  get  her  fighting  mad 
and  so  put  some  stick-to-itiveness  into  her,  if  only 
as  the  result  of  pique.  Haven't  you  ever  tried  to  do 
that  with  someone?" 

It  was  the  woman's  turn  to  flush,  but  he  didn't 
observe  the  fact  and  she  said,  "If  you're  so  certain 
that  she  will  leave  soon  perhaps  you're  willing  to 
make  a  wager  on  it." 

"Sure." 

"Very  well.  I  claim  the  woman's  prerogative  to 
name  the  terms.  If  she  stays  six  months  you'll  have  to 
pay  me  a  five-pound  box  of  the  very  best  chocolates 
made  in  America — I'm  simply  dying  for  some,  now." 

"Done.  The  odds  are  at  least  six  to  one  against 
you.  By  the  way,  what  do  I  get  if  /  win?  " 


202  SMILING  PASS 

"A  box  of  cigars?" 

"Not  on  your  life — unless  I  give  you  the  money 
and  then  buy  them  myself.  You  admit  that  you're 
practically  bankrupt  and  besides  a  girl's  taste  iri 
tobacco  is  execrable." 

"I  should  hope  so.  Well,  what  can  a  penniless 
sister  give  her  brother — not  that  I  expect  to  lose." 

"An  invitation  to  come  back  next  year." 

"Done."  The  two  clasped  hands,  laughing.  "You'd 
get  that  anyway.  And  I'll  wager  again,  that  you'll 
see  some  changes — both  human  and  material." 

"I  have  already,"  he  answered,  significantly. 
"Whether  or  not  I'm  right  concerning  Margaret  I 
was  wrong  about  Camille.  Either  I  didn't  know 
her  at  all  before,  or  she's  blossomed  out  amazingly. 
She's  all  that  you  wrote  regarding  her.  What  more 
can  be  said?" 

"She's  a  darling.  I'm  glad  that  you  feel  like  that, 
Phil,"  replied  Rose,  softly. 

He  laughed. 

"But  I  don't  feel  like  that— yet,  anyway.  I  told 
you  that  I  could  never  love  another  woman  as  I 
did  .  .  " 

"Hush."  Rose  slipped  her  hand  affectionately 
into  his,  and  they  were  both  silent  for  a  moment. 
At  length  she  said  brightly,  "Billy  boy  is  to  be  Mar- 
garet's salvation;  I  know  it.  She's  been  pampered 
at  home  and  bowed  down  to  abroad  so  much  that 
the  real  woman  instinct  was  smothered  in  a  mass  of 
self-interest.  But  it's  there,  Phil.  She's  got  to  fight 


TROUBLE  203 


to  make  him  over  and  the  fight  will  alike  strengthen 
her  and  open  her  eyes  to  the  need  of  extending  the 
battle  front  to  include  all  these  poor  kiddies.  Then 
the  unromantic  side  of  the  struggle  won't  be  a  de- 
terrent. What  a  shame  it  is  that  we  had  to  send  him 
back  to  his  uncle's  cabin  even  for  a  few  weeks,  to 
live  in  that  den  of  trachoma  and  .  .  .  and  every- 
thing! I  suppose  that  he  sleeps  with  Desty — poor 
thing —  and  three  or  four  other  of  the  boys." 

"Well,  it  won't  be  for  long;  if  your  appeal  gets 
across/' 

"Will  it?  We  simply  must  have  another  building 
at  once,  to  use  as  a  dormitory  and  half-a-dozen  other 
things,  temporarily.  And  if  we  can  only  get  enough 
to  buy  those  trees,  we'll  manage  to  get  them  sawed 
and  turned  into  a  structure  somehow." 

As  she  spoke  Philip  drew  from  his  pocket  the 
proof  of  a  little  booklet  in  which  Rose  had  made 
her  appeal  with  touching  simplicity.  Turning  its 
pages,  he  answered,  "Yes,  I  think  it  will  go.  It  cer- 
tainly is  a  pretty  thought,  Smiles,  each  oak  tree 
standing  for  a  mountain  child  and  offering  itself 
for  adoption  to  die  vicariously  that  the  child  may 
live  and  have  life  more  abundantly.  I  should  think 
that  the  graduate  nurses  of  the  Children's  Hospital 
ought  to  be  able  to  interest  the  families  where  they 
are  serving  in  the  project  and  I'll  push  it  when  I  get 
home." 

Philip  was  silent  for  a  moment  and  when  he 
spoke  again  it  was  with  marked  hesitancy  and  unease. 


204 SMILING  PASS 

"I  wish  that  I  might  help,  financially,  Smiles. 
But  .  .  .  well  I  can't,  now.  I  used  to  warn  you 
against  extravagance,  just  as  Don  did,  but  I've  al- 
ways lived  about  up  to  my  income  and  ...  I 
hate  to  tell  you  this,  but  I  know  you  must  wonder 
a  little  why  I  haven't  come  forward  with  an  offer 
in  line  with  my  verbal  interest  in  the  work." 

Rose  would  have  interrupted  with  an  indignant 
denial,  but  he  checked  her  by  hurrying  on. 

"The  truth  is  that  Father  MacDonald  got  to  me 
for  a  fairly  sizable  loan,  two  years  ago.  It  about 
cleaned  me  out,  as  it  naturally  went  up  the  flue, 
just  as  Donald's  did.  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  men- 
tion it  to  him,  though.  I  don't  care  a  rap  on  my  own 
account,  but  now  I  wish  that  I  had  ..." 

"Bless  your  generous  heart,  Phil,"  broke  in  his 
sister  in  a  pained  voice,  and  she  pressed  his  hand 
tenderly.  "Oh,  I'm  so  sorry!  Poor  daddy  MacDon- 
ald! He  shouldn't  have  appealed  to  you,  of  course 
— he  had  no  right  to  do  that — but  what  mental 
torture  he  must  have  been  in !  A  drowning  man  doesn't 
reason,  he  instinctively  clutches  at  anything  within 
reach  by  which  he  may  be  able  to  save  himself.  Of 
course  we'll  repay  you,  some  day,  but  .  .  .  Now 
what's  the  matter?" 

The  exclamatory  question  was  occasioned  by  the 
sound  of  two  voices  raised  in  angry  altercation  on 
the  porch  of  the  House  of  Happiness,  whose  steps 
they  had  almost  reached.  The  first  was  Virgil's,  and 
they  heard  him  say,  peremptorily,  "Yes,  you  will  do 


TROUBLE  205 


as  I  say,  if  you  expect  to  stay  here.  Besides,  I  heard 
Rose  ask  you  to  fix  those  palings  so  that  the  hogs 
wouldn't  get  through  them,  and  here  you  are,  loaf- 
ing around." 

"I  reckon  hit  haint  none  uv  your  business,"  an- 
swered the  other — Malvary  Amos — hotly. 

"I  reckon  it  is.  I'm  not  trying  to  'boss,'  as  you 
put  it,  but  you've  got  to  realize  that  the  rules  were 
made  to  be  lived  up  to  and  that  it's  part  of  my  job 
to  see  that  they  are — I  share  in  the  authority  here, 
whether  you  like  it  or  not.  Besides,  you  ought  to  re- 
member that  we  were  responsible  for  getting  you 
and  your  father  ..." 

"That's  enough,  Virgil,"  called  Rose.  The  speaker 
stopped  suddenly  and  the  other  came  running  down 
the  stairs.  In  the  becoming  tweed  suit  which 
Philip  had  given  him,  with  the  flaunting  red  neck- 
tie, which  was  his  chief  pride,  he  looked  like  any 
well-groomed  and  manly  city  youth,  although  he 
might  have  passed  for  nearer  twenty  than  sixteen, 
for  his  darkly  handsome,  somber  face  was  strongly 
moulded  by  the  hand  of  experience.  His  black  hair 
swept  down  over  his  forehead  almost  to  his  eyes, 
which  were  blazing;  his  thin  cheeks  and  clinched 
jaws  were  white  and  his  lips  fairly  quivering  with 
suppressed  rage. 

"If  he  don't  quit  pickin'  on  me,  I'll  .  .  .  I'll 
kill  him  some  day,"  he  said  unsteadily. 

"Tell  me,  what  is  the  matter,  my  boy?"  asked 
the  woman  quietly,  as  she  laid  a  soothing  arm  about 
his  tense  shoulders. 


206 SMILING  PASS 

"Hit's  his  everlastin'  bullyin',  Smiles.  I  kaint 
stand  hit."  The  boy's  whole  frame  was  trembling 
spasmodically  now.  "Nobody  haint  never  bossed 
me,  before.  And  he  said  I  was  loafin'  on  the  job 
you  give  me  tew  do.  Hit's  a  lie!  I  fixed  them  palin's 
until  the  nails  give  out  an  hour  ago,  and  put  a  board 
across  the  bottom  uv  the  rest  uv  the  hole  tew  keep 
the  hogs  aout — he  couldn't  see  that,  I  don't  guess. 
But  I  wasn't  goin'  tew  tell  him.  Hit  haint  none  uv 
his  business." 

"You  should  have  told  him,  Mally.  And  in  a  way 
it  was  his  business,  because  the  work  which  we  all 
have  to  do  is  as  much  part  of  our  education  as  the 
study.  The  school  part  hasn't  really  got  going  here 
yet,  but  you  know  that  we're  all  trying  to  act  as 
though  it  had,  and  Virgil  is  playing  his  part.  He's 
terribly  in  earnest  about  wanting  to  train  all  the 
mountain  boys,  big  and  little,  to  be  real  men,  and  if 
he  sometimes  seems  dictato  .  .  .  bossy,  we  mustn't 
forget  that  he  got  his  own  training  in  the  army, 
where  those  in  authority  don't  request,  they  order." 

For  a  few  moments  more  she  talked  to  him  in  an 
affectionate,  motherly  manner  and  finally  sent  him 
away,  somewhat  mollified,  with  his  adored  Philip. 
Then,  with  a  sterner  countenance,  she  mounted  the 
steps  and  accosted  Virgil,  who  was  waiting  for  her. 
He  started  to  speak  in  a  somewhat  apologetic  tone 
but  she  interrupted  him,  somewhat  tartly. 

"Of  course  he  shouldn't  have  answered  you  that 
way,  Virgie.  But,  neither  should  you  have  spoken 


TROUBLE  207 


as  you  did  and  you  know  it,  perfectly  well.  The  in- 
bred tendency  to  quarrel  is  one  of  the  things  we're 
going  to  try  hardest  to  combat,  and  how  can  we 
succeed  if  you,  on  one  hand,  and  Judd  on  the  other, 
persist  in  being  quarrelsome?" 

"I  know,"  he  answered,  rather  humbly.  "But 
their  independence  and  laziness  is  enough  to  try 
the  patience  of  a  saint.  Judd  is  always  letting  things 
go  and  I  just  thought  that  Mally  ..." 

"You  shouldn't  'just  think' — I  mean  that  you 
shouldn't  jump  at  conclusions.  And  we've  all  got 
to  have  the  patience  of  archangels.  One  false  step 
is  as  likely  as  not  to  send  us  all  the  way  down  to  the 
bottom  of  the  hill  again,  just  when  we  are  beginning 
to  get  started  up.  If  you  begin  to  quarrel  with  the 
first  boy  we  have  ..." 

"I  didn't.  He  began  it  as  soon  as  he  came.  Be- 
sides, he's  all  the  time  hanging  around  Omie.  She's 
only  a  kid,  but  it's  against  the  rule  and  I  won't  have 
it." 

"I  understand  and  I'll  talk  to  him  about  that. 
But  for  the  rest,  even  if  he  does  seem  a  little  bellig- 
erent, you  should  remember  that  it  takes  a  higher 
type  of  manhood  to  smile  and  forbear  than  to  scowl 
and  fight.  Bear  our  motto  in  mind.  I  hate  to  lecture, 
Virgie,  but  ..." 

"I  know;  and  you're  dead  right,  mother  Rose. 

I  shouldn't  have  done  it,  but  I   was  nervous  and 
» 

"Nervous?     Why,  has  anything  happened?"     she 


208 SMILING  PASS 

demanded  with  a  swift  premonition  of  something 
wrong. 

"Well  ...  I  guess  that  Donald  will  tell  you." 

Virgil  fled  down  the  long  flight  of  steps,  three  at 
a  time,  and  Rose  turned  and,  with  sinking  heart, 
hurried  into  the  office. 

"What's  the  matter,  Donald?"  she  cried  from  the 
doorway.  "Virgil  hinted  ..." 

"And  the  kick  is  likely  to  follow,  if  there  is  any- 
thing in  your  cry  of  'Wolf,  wolf!'  I  shouldn't  have 
given  the  matter  a  serious  second  thought  if  all  of 

you  hadn't  raised  so  many  storm  warnings.     Now 
» 

"For  goodness'  sake,  Don,  tell  me  what  has  hap- 
pened!" 

"Something  rather  tragic.  The  Tittle  baby  that 
you  washed  is  .  .  ." 

"Not  dead?" 

He  nodded. 


CHAPTER  VI 

UNEXPECTED  ALLIES 

"On,  Donald!  The  poor  little  thing!"  Rose 
snatched  up  her  own  laughing  little  daughter  and 
held  her  close.  For  the  moment  her  single  thought 
was  for  the  pitiable  baby  whose  life  was  tragically 
— if  mercifully — ended.  What  effect  its  death  might 
have  on  them  had  no  place  in  her  mind.  Dr.  Hunter 
looked  up  at  "her  from  the  medical  volume  which 
he  was  studying  and  his  eyes  kindled  slowly.  What- 
ever might  have  been  his  ordinary  feelings  towards 
her,  the  display  of  mother  love  always  seemed  to 
stir  him  deeply  and  lift  the  mask  from  his  almost 
unchanging  countenance. 

"What  happened?"     she  demanded  at  length. 

"Don'c  know.  John  brought  in  the  report — says 
that  no  one  seems  to  know  exactly,  but  the  story- 
has  apparently  spread  all  up  and  down  the  creek 
already.  Tobias  and  his  wife  say  ..." 

"lean  guess.   Did  you  try  to  find  out  the  facts,  John?" 

The  other  man  nodded.  "  Couldn't.  They  wouldn't 
even  let  me  in.  Tobias  was  at  home,  as  usual,  and 
he  threatened  .  .  .  never  mind." 

"I'm  going  right  up  there   this  instant,"   Rose 
declared,  putting  her  hat  on  again. 
209 


210 SMILING  PASS 

"You're  not;  I  absolutely  forbid  it.  Are  you 
crazy,  Rose?"  her  husband  burst  forth,  and  she 
responded,  "On  the  contrary.  It  is  the  only  thing 
to  do,  for  two  reasons.  If  I  don't  show  a  sympathetic 
interest  a  bad  matter  will  be  made  worse,  and  be- 
sides, the  only  way  to  conquer  superstitious  hostil- 
ity is  to  downface  it  with  at  least  a  show  of  bravery. 
I'll  admit  to  you  that  I  am  just  a  tiny  bit  frightened, 
not  on  my  own  account — they  won't  hurt  me — but 
at  the  thought  of  what  effect  this  pitiful  little  tra- 
gedy will  have  on  our  work.  I  won't  let  them  know 
it,  though." 

"Don't  do  it,  Rose."  Donald's  tone  suddenly 
changed  to  one  of  entreaty.  "Of  course  you're  theo- 
retically right,  but  if  anything  should  happen  to 
you  .  .  ." 

"Nothing  will,  in  broad  daylight,  you  dear  goose." 
John's  face  darkened,  almost  imperceptibly.  "I 
didn't  suppose  that  fear  had  any  place  in  you." 

"Hasn't  it?  If  you  were  tied  to  a  chair  .  .  . 
well,  go  if  you  feel  that  you  must,  but  do  be  careful, 
and  take  John  or  Virgil  with  you." 

"No.  That  would  look  as  though  I  were  afraid, 
but  I'll  compromise  and  take  Omie."  The  child- 
woman  had  appeared  in  the  doorway,  radiating 
youthful  energy.  "You'll  go  up  to  Tobias'  cabin 
with  me,  won't  you,  dear?"  she  asked. 

"Rose,  you  haint  .  .  .  you  aren't  aiming  tew 
go  up  there!"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "Hasn't  Donald 
told  you  .  .  .?" 


UNEXPECTED  ALLIES  211 

"Yes;  that  is  why  I'm  going.  You  are  not  afraid, 
are  you?" 

"I  don't  reckon  I  am  ...  with  you"  Omie 
declared  firmly. 

Hardly  half  an  hour,  filled  with  ever-increasing 
uneasiness  on  Donald's  part,  had  passed  before  the 
two  were  home  again.  Rose  slowly  shook  her  head 
in  answer  to  his  inquiring  demand  and  said,  "We 
couldn't  get  in,  either.  The  door  is  usually  open, 
summer  and  winter,  but  it  was  shut  and  fastened 
and  the  family  wouldn't  even  answer  my  request 
to  enter  after  I  had  told  them  who  it  was.  Donald, 
I  ...  I'm  afraid." 

Her  momentary  display  of  weakness  reacted  con- 
versely upon  her  husband.  He  drew  her  close  against 
his  shoulder,  comforting  and  strengthening  her  with 
the  firm  assurance  that  there  was  nothing  whatever 
to  fear — saying  that  nothing  would  come  of  it  and 
anyway  it  was  absurd  to  worry  about  the  crossing 
of  bridges  which  would  probably  never  be  reached. 

"Of  course  it's  disheartening,  child,  after  you  had 
done  your  best,  and  it  has  its  tragic  as  well  as  its 
pathetic  features,"  he  went  on.  "But  you  said  your- 
self that  only  a  few  people  here  still  believe  that 
superstitious  rot.  What  has  become  of  your  faith  in 
the  Power  which,  you  usually  insist,  always  causes 
the  right  to  triumph?" 

"The  right  cause  always  moves  on  to  final  tri- 
umph, but  you  and  I  know  that  it's  often  over  a  path 


SMILING  PASS 


filled  with  stumbling-block  incidents,  Don.  They 
may  be  useful  in  toughening  our  wills,  but  just  the 
same  they're  temporarily  painful  to  the  shins  which 
bump  against  them.  How  absurd;  as  though  wills 
had  shins!"  Rose  laughed,  a  little  shakily.  "Well, 
there's  no  sense  worrying  over  the  inevitable,  which 
will  happen  whether  we  worry  or  not  —  and  there 
may  nothing  come  of  it  at  all.  Hark!  There's  the 
supper  bell.  Don't  you  think  that  you  could  walk 
to  the  dining-room  leaning  on  my  shoulder  and  with- 
out your  crutches?  I  know  that  you're  beginning  to 
get  a  little  better,  dear." 

Donald  slowly  pulled  himself  erect  and  placed 
part  of  his  weight  tentatively  on  his  crippled  leg  — 
which  had,  indeed,  somewhat  improved  with  the 
prolonged  rest  and  the  massage  and  electrical  treat- 
ment which  she  and  Dr.  Hunter  had  given  it  several 
times  each  day.  Suddenly  his  face  went  white.  He 
dropped  back  into  the  chair  and  beads  of  perspira- 
tion started  from  his  forehead.  "Go,  go,"  he  panted. 
"  I'll  be  better  —  I'll  come  in  a  few  minutes  ...  on 
my  crutches." 

There  was  unusual  gaiety  at  the  supper  table  and 
afterwards  in  the  study-office.  Margaret,  from  whom 
news  of  the  little  catastrophe  had  been  purposely 
withheld,  was  livelier  than  at  any  time  since  her  ar- 
rival. And  the  rest  —  particularly  Donald  —  forced 
a  cheerfulness  that  they  were  far  from  feeling,  in 
order  to  drown  out  the  voices  of  past  contentions, 
present  pain  and  future  trouble.  Although  the  con- 


UNEXPECTED  ALLIES  213 

versation  was  general,  Margaret  and  Virgil  talked 
principally  of  their  plans  for  the  school-to-be;  Rose, 
Donald  and  John  of  immediate  needs  of  a  medical  na- 
ture; and  Philip  and  Camille — laughing  continuously — 
learned  at  least  three  old  and  amusing  songs  from 
Omie,  who  seemed  to  have  an  inexhaustible  supply. 
They  had  mastered  the  mournful  ballad  called 
"The  Little  Sparrow,"  which  told  in  minor  strains 
of  the  suicide  of  a  maiden  crossed  in  love,  and  that 
of  the  girl  who  was  nearly  as  unfortunate  and  beg- 
ged her  lover  to 

"Throw  your  arms  'round  me  before  it's  too  late, 
Throw  your  arms  'round  me,  feel  my  heart  break," 

and  were  chanting  lustily  the  endless  verses  covering 
the  varied  requests  of  the  old  man  who 

"Asked  my  mother  to  set  him  a  stool, 
With  his  old  shoes  on  and  his  leggins, 

She  set  him  a  stool  and  he  sot  like  a  fool, 
With  his  old  shoes  on  and  his  leggins," 

when  they  were  startlingly  interrupted. 

There  was  again  the  sound  of  many  shuffling  feet 
moving  along  the  piazza  floor,  then  silence,  followed 
by  a  heavy-handed  demand  on  the  panel  of  the  door. 

For  a  moment  no  one  spoke,  and  looks  with  mutual 
questionings  and  a  suggestion  of  trepidation  ap- 
peared on  every  face,  but  Margaret's  and  John's. 
Her's  showed  surprise,  merely;  his  was  stern  but 
emotionless. 


214  SMILING  PASS 

"No!  I'll  go,"  exclaimed  Rose,  forestalling  Virgil's 
movement  toward  rising  and,  before  anyone  could 
prevent  her,  she  had  seized  one  of  the  two  kerosene 
lamps  by  which  the  room  was  illuminated  and  has- 
tened to  the  hall  door. 

"  Go  on,  you  fools !  Bring  her  back !"  gasped  Don- 
ald, limp  and  white  from  the  exquisite  agony  of  his 
own  attempt  to  rise.  His  words  galvanized  the  three 
other  men  into  action,  too  late,  however,  to  prevent 
Rose  from  flinging  the  door  wide  open  and  holding 
the  lamp  up  so  that  its  mild  yellow  light  spread  over, 
the  group  on  the  porch. 

"You're  Mistress  MacDonald — what  they  calls 
'Smiles/  I  reckon." 

A  bearded  mountaineer,  whose  face  was  unfamil- 
iar to  any  of  the  tense  group  in  the  hall,  uttered 
the  words  abruptly. 

"Yes.  What  do  you  want?  Oh,  what  has  happened? 
Has  someone  been  hurt?" 

The  complete  change  in  Rose's  voice  was  produced 
by  the  sight  of  a  form  lying  on  a  rude  litter  of  sap- 
lings and  boughs  carried  by  four  of  the  rough-look- 
ing mountaineers  who  stood  a  step  behind  the  speaker. 

"Thet  air  a  fact.  Bill  Cress,  he  got  hisself  shot 
yesterday  evenin'  over  tew  Gray  maounting  and 
we-all  hev  brung  him  hyar.  He  told  us  thet  thar  was 
a  doctor.  ..." 

"There  is.  Oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  did  it!  Bring  him 
right  in,  men  ...  no,  take  him  to  that  other 
building — the  hospital.  We'll  come  there." 


UNEXPECTED  ALLIES          215 

The  bearers  of  the  weighty  burden  turned  and 
trudged  slowly  along  the  connecting  veranda  while 
Rose  surrendered  her  lamp  to  Virgil  and  ran  into  the 
office,  where  Margaret,  very  pale  and  with 
her  eyes  filled  with  startled  fright,  was  standing 
beside  Donald  unconsciously  clutching  his  sleeve, 
and  Camille  and  Omie  were  still  seated,  leaning 
tensely  forward. 

"Did  you  hear,  Don?  It's  Bad  Bill  .  .  . 
wounded.  We've  got  to  have  this  other  light." 

"Yes,  yes.  I'm  coming,  too  .  .  .  just  a  minute," 
he  gasped.  "  Get  my  instrument  case." 

"Donald!  You  can't  do  it.  My  dear!  Have  you 
forgotten  that  we  have  two  other  doctors  here?" 

"What  do  they  know  about  wounds?"  His  tone 
was  petulant,  almost  abusive.  "I'll  come." 

"I  .  .  .1  reckon  thet  I'll  do  purty  good,  naow." 
Cress  groaned,  then  added,  "Much  obleeged,  doctor 
and  .  .  .  and  the  same  tew  you,  Smiles.  I  ... 
I  allows  you-all  can  caount  me  a  friend  uv  yourn 
from  tonight." 

It  was  an  hour  later.  The  litter-bearers  had  long 
since  departed,  refusing  an  invitation  to  remain  until 
the  morrow.  According  to  the  story  told  by  their 
spokesman,  Bill  had  merely  "got  hisself  shot"  and 
it  was  not  for  them  to  inquire  how  or  why,  although 
they  might  suspect  that  the  bullets  which  John 
Hunter  had,  under  Donald's  direction,  removed 
from  the  mighty  thigh  and  side  of  the  injured  man 
had  come  from  the  rifle  of  a  revenue  officer  or  sheriff. 


216  SMILING  PASS 

Rather  graphically,  too,  the  mountaineers  had 
told  of  the  painfully  slow  journey  over  three  moun- 
tain passes  with  their  heavy  load — a  trip  which 
might  have  been  covered  by  a  walker  in  three  hours 
but  which  had  taken  them  from  daybreak  until  ten 
in  the  evening.  At  first  they  had  attempted  to  come 
by  the  impossible  mountain  road  with  then1  charge 
in  a  wagon;  but,  after  being  forced  repeatedly  to 
take  out  the  mule  and  draw  it  themselves,  or  lift 
the  litter  from  it  and  carry  the  wounded  man  in 
order  to  ease  his  agony,  they  had  decided  to  bear  it 
themselves  the  rest  of  the  way,  with  short  advances 
and  frequent  long  pauses. 

Seated  in  a  cushioned  chair  Donald  had  directed 
the  other  two  physicians,  robed  in  their  white  sur- 
gical gowns,  in  probing  for  and  extracting  the  two 
deeply  imbedded  bullets.  The  wounded  man  had 
borne  the  pain  stoically  without  anesthetics,  and 
when  he  was  ensconced  in  a  cot  bed,  better  than 
any  he  had  ever  known,  he  made  his  pledge  of  fealty 
with  an  earnest  simplicity  which  told  them  that  they 
had  indeed  made  a  valuable  friend  and  ally  that 
night 

Commenting  upon  it  as  Rose  was  aiding  him  to 
undress  later,  Donald  said,  "Well,  Fate  has  smiled 
on  us  in  one  respect  today,  anyway.  It's  presented 
you  with  the  chance  to  carry  out  your  declaration 
in  re  'Bad  Bill.'  Funny  how  things  turn  out,  some- 
times. When  I  heard  those  mountaineers'  feet  scuf- 
fling on  the  porch  I  would  have  sworn  that  .  .  . ". 


UNEXPECTED  ALLIES  217 

"And  so  would  I.  I  was  frightened  almost  to  death 
for  a  minute,"  his  wife  broke  in. 

"If  you  were,  you  managed  to  keep  the  fact  pretty 
well  concealed.  I  don't  know  what  I  am  going  to  do 
to  keep  you  from  rushing  in  where  angels  fear  to 
tread."  His  voice  sounded  humorously  despairing, 
but  he  laughed  as  he  drew  her  close  for  an  instant, 
and  added  softly,  "You  little  brick." 

There  was  a  suggestion  of  a  tremolo  in  Rose's 
echoing  laugh  as  she  kissed  him.  Ignoring  his  praise 
of  herself,  she  said,  "Margaret  was  plucky,  wasn't 
she?  Of  course  Camille  and  I  didn't  need  her  help, 
but  I  let  her  stay  just  to  try  her  out  and  give  her  a 
chance  to  see  what  life  here  really  means.  If  she  is 
to  remain  she  must  become  accustomed  not  only 
to  dirt  and  hardship  but  to  'battle,  murder  and 
.  .  .'  Don,  what's  that?" 

Her  quotation  had  been  interrupted  by  the  noise 
of  a  fusilade  of  rifle  shots,  shattering  the  midnight 
silence  outside.  At  the  same  moment  came  a  nearer 
crash  as  one  of  the  front  windows  was  shattered  to 
fragments  by  a  stone.  Holding  her  breath,  she  clung 
to  him  tightly  for  a  second.  Again  the  cracking  of 
rifles  and  with  it  the  sound  of  voices  calling  out 
jeers  and  threats  in  drunken  tones. 

"It's  come,  Don.  We  spoke  too  soon,"  she  whis- 
pered. From  the  house  next  door  came  a  wrathful 
bellow  in  Bill  Cress'  deep  bass,  demanding  a  gun, 
the  sound  of  the  front  door  being  flung  open  and  the 
voices  of  Philip  and  John  in  angry,  excited  exclama- 


218 SMILING  PASS 

tions.  Rose  broke  from  her  husband's  encircling  arm, 
threw  a  kimona  over  her  undergarments  and  ran 
out  into  the  hallway,  just  as  Margaret,  similarly 
clad,  and  Camille,  in  her  nightgown,  appeared  from 
their  respective  rooms,  large-eyed  and  pale. 

"For  God's  sake  keep  away  from  the  door,  Rose!" 
entreated  Donald. 

She  promptly  disobeyed — if,  indeed,  she  was  con- 
scious at  all  of  what  he  said — opened  it  wide  and, 
with  the  other  two  girls  huddled  in  each  other's 
arms  behind  her,  peered  out  in  the  direction  of  the 
creek  below.  The  enclosing  hills  made  a  giant  cup, 
filled  to  the  brim  with  impenetrable  shadow,  which 
the  faint  light  of  the  distant  stars  failed  to  penetrate. 
Nothing  could  she  see,  not  even  the  forms  of  Philip 
and  John  who  were  on  the  piazza,  but  a  few  feet  to 
the  right  of  her.  There  was  a  momentary  lull,  during 
which  the  never-ending  murmur  of  the  creek  and  the 
piping  of  frogs  was  distinctly  audible.  Then  from 
the  direction  of  Virgil's  cabin  across  the  creek 
came  his  voice  raised  in  anger  and  army  profanity 
accompanied  by  two  shots  in  rapid  succession,  whose 
comparative  loudness  proclaimed  their  origin  in  an 
army  rather  than  a  hunting  rifle.  They  were  answered 
by  a  few  more  scattering  shots  from  directly  below, 
fired,  doubtless,  into  the  air  out  of  pure  deviltry, 
and  then  a  snapping  and  cracking  of  wood  followed 
by  a  crash,  and  rude  laughter.  Finally  came  the 
sound  of  feet  moving  up  the  rough  creek  road, 
an  occasional  rifle  crack  and  silence  again. 


UNEXPECTED  ALLIES          219 

"Don't  go  down  there,  Phil!"  Rose  cried  out  as 
she  saw  her  brother  reappear  in  the  hospital  door- 
way with  a  lighted  lantern,  and  Margaret  added 
beseechingly  over  her  shoulder,  "Oh,  please  don't. 
They  .  .  .  they  might  hurt  you." 

Camille  said  nothing  but  she  pressed  her  tightly 
clasped  hands  against  her  young  bosom,  unseen  in 
the  dark. 

He  yielded  to  their  entreaties,  extinguished  the 
lantern,  and  joined  them  in  the  doorway.  Dr.  Hun- 
ter did  likewise,  taking  his  stand  close  by  Rose's 
side,  yet  pressed  hard  back  against  the  edge  of  the 
door  so  that  he  should  not  so  much  as  touch  her. 
From  the  new  cabin  and  shedlike  store  combined, 
which  Judd  was  building  for  future  occupancy  and 
which  even  now  served  as  a  shelter  for  Bud  and 
Malvary,  came  their  voices  as  they  appeared  with 
a  lantern  whose  bobbing  light  moved  to  meet  that 
borne  by  Virgil  as  he  approached,  leaping  from  stone 
to  stone  across  the  shallow  stream.  The  combined 
mild  yellow  radiance  disclosed  the  fact  that  fully 
half  of  the  paling  fence  had  been  laid  flat  and  the 
little  potato  patch  behind  it  trampled  down  and 
ruined. 

"Oh,  what  a  shame!  The  cowards  ...  no, 
the  poor  foolish  things,"  Rose  exclaimed. 

"I  think  that  I  recognized  some  of  'em  by  their 
voices,"  called  Virgil,  as,  lantern  in  one  hand  and 
rifle  in  the  other,  he  came  striding  up  the  steep  as- 
cent toward  them.  "  Guess  they  were  all  young  fel- 


220  SMILING  PASS 

lows,  full  of  moonshine,  and  just  waiting  for  an  ex- 
cuse to  try  to  throw  a  scare  into  us.  Nobody  was 
hurt,  was  there?" 

"No,  thank  God,"  answered  Smiles.  "But  some- 
one would  have  been  if  Bill  Cress  could  have  got  out 
of  bed  and  hold  of  a  gun.  Did  you  hear  him  roar? 
Oh,  dear.  What  a  shame  it  is.  I  feel  like  crying  and 
.  .  .  and  swearing." 

And  thereupon  to  everyone's  amazement,  she  did 
both,  first  uttering  a  few  soul-satisfying  expletives 
which  from  the  lips  of  a  man  would  have  passed  un- 
noticed but  which,  coming  from  her,  shocked  fully 
as  much  as  they  amused  her  hearers,  and  then  weep- 
ing miserably  for  a  moment  on  the  shoulder  of  the 
raincoat  which  covered  Philip's  pajamas.  The  little 
tempest  was  speedily  over  and  it  served  to  bring 
relief  to  the  high-strung  tension  of  all  the  party. 
They  laughed — all  save  John  Hunter — and  an  in- 
stant later  Smiles  had  joined  in  their  mirth,  although 
her  laughter  was  from  the  lips  rather  than  from  the 
heart. 

"Please  forgive  me,  everybody,"  she  beseeched. 
"I've  been  bad  and  sad:  now  I'm  getting  mad — mad 
clean  through.  We're  not  going  to  be  frightened  by 
any  childish  display  like  this,  are  we?" 

"Well,  I  guess  not,"  affirmed  Virgil  staunchly, 
and  Margaret's  voice  came  somewhat  unsteadily 
out  of  the  dim  background,  "Are  we  downhearted? 
No!" 

"That's  the  talk,  Margaret!"  approved  the  youth. 


UNEXPECTED  ALLIES  221 

"We  'have  just  begun  to  fight.'  I  say  is  .  .  .is 
Camille  there?  She  wasn't  frightened,  was  she?" 

"Yes — and  no,"  answered  Margaret,  shielding 
from  the  lad's  searching  gaze  the  dim  shrinking  form 
of  the  girl,  who  had  suddenly  become  painfully  con- 
scious of  her  unconventional  attire.  All  of  them, 
indeed,  now  became  aware  of  their  dishabille  and 
the  fact  that  they  were  shivering,  partly  from  the 
chill  which  the  midnight  air  held,  partly  from  ner- 
vous excitement,  and  they  hastily  separated  to  return 
to  bed. 

No  one  slept  much  during  the  balance  of  the  night 
however,  and  the  circle  which  formed  about  the 
breakfast  board  at  seven  o'clock  the  following  morn- 
ing showed  several  rather  drawn  and  pale  counte- 
nances. Although  the  night  darkness  had  bred  a 
needless  fear,  it  had  also  lent  to  the  affair  some- 
thing of  a  romantic  thrill  which  was  wholly  dissi- 
pated when  stark  daylight  had  disclosed  the  full 
extent  of  the  petty  devastation — the  shattered  win- 
dow, uptorn  fence  and  trampled  garden. 

They  were  discussing  it  soberly  when  Billy  Boy 
walked,  unannounced,  into  the  room  and  stood 
before  them  on  one  grimy  bare  foot  with  the  big 
toe  of  the  other  twisting  upon  it.  His  unwashed  face 
showed  signs  of  past  tears  and  present  distress. 

Margaret  sprang  from  her  seat  and,  running  to 
his  side,  put  her  arms  tenderly  about  him.  "Why 
Billy  Boy!  What  are  you  doing  here  so  early?" 
she  cried. 


222 SMILING  PASS 

He  almost  rudely  squirmed  out  of  her  embrace  and 
addressed  Philip.  "A  Boy  Scout  hes  tew  help  other 
people  at  all  times  and  .  .  .  and  tell  the  truth, 
don't  he,  Uncle  Phil?"  was  his  abrupt  demand. 

"Yes,  son.  A  Scout  is  truthful.  But  why  do  you 
ask?" 

The  child's  lips  quivered  and  tears  came  into  his 
eyes  again.  "Tobias  will  skin  the  hide  off'n  me, 
I  reckon,  but  I've  jest  got  tew  tell  you-ali  the  truth. 
Thet  thar  baby  didn't  die  'cause  you  washed  hit, 
Rose  ..." 

He  paused  and  all  of  them  regarded  him  with  ques- 
tioning intensity. 

"Hit  .  .  .  Hit's  mother  she  rolled  on  hit  when 
she  was  asleep,  night  before  last  and  squoze  the 
breath  outer  hit.  They  told  me  not  tew  tell  no  one, 
but  I  reckon  I  jest  hev  tew  tell  you,  'cause  .  .  . 
'cause  I  air  goin'  tew  belong  tew  you." 

Margaret  caught  him  close  to  her  breast,  sobbing 
a  little.  There  was  an  instant  of  surprised  silence. 
"Out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings,"  said 
the  Scripture.  They  had  the  truth,  but  the  disclosure 
was  startling  and  painful. 

"Thank  you  for  telling  us,  Billy  Boy,"  said  Donald. 
"You  do  belong  to  us — we're  going  to  adopt  you 
legally,  but  you  may  stay  here  from  now  on,  we'll 
make  a  place  for  you  to  sleep,  somewhere." 

"He  can  have  a  cot  in  my  room!"  declared  Mar- 
garet, flushing  a  little,  but  almost  defiantly  and 
Philip  answered,  "No,  he'll  bunk  with  me  until  I 


UNEXPECTED  ALLIES          223 

go  and  then  can  stay  in  the  hospital  with  John  while 
you're  getting  your  dormitory  built.  Don't  be  afraid; 
we'll  take  care  of  you,  sonny." 

The  boy  gave  him  a  look  of  childish  gratitude, 
smiling  through  his  tears  and  Rose  whispered  gen- 
tly, "Our  first  convert.  Pass  through,  from  Shadow 
to  Sunshine,  Billy  Boy." 

"Well,  in  a  sense  it's  a  relief  to  know  what  really 
happened,  but  what  good  is  it  going  to  do  us?  We 
can't  very  well  declare  it  forth  from  the  housetop 
— at  least  not  without  getting  Billy  in  wrong,"  began 
Donald,  but  his  wife  interrupted  him  with,  "Wait! 
I  have  an  idea." 

There  was  a  note  akin  to  hysteria  in  the  little 
laugh  which  preceded  her  next  sentence. 

"Aunt  Lissy  Triplett  has  sworn  herself  eternally 
my  friend  since  I  have  been  dressing  her  sores  and 
she  may  be  just  the  one  to  help  us." 

"How,  in  the  name  of  goodness?"  demanded  her 
husband. 

"Only  a  few  at  the  most  can  possibly  believe,  even 
here,  that  our  washing  that  poor  baby  killed  it,  and 
those  who  are  superstitious  enough  to  believe  it, 
certainly  credit  her  with  her  self-declared  abilities 
as  a  seer  and  witch-doctor.  If  I  can  get  her  to  an- 
nounce openly  that  she  has  had  a  vision  portraying 
the  true  cause  of  its  death — and  I'm  sure  that  I  can 
— it  will  serve  our  purpose.  The  Tittles  won't  deny 
it — it's  a  thing  which  happens  all-too-often,  the 
way  families  sleep  here." 


224 SMILING  PASS 

"Do  you  really  belieye  that  you  can  get  away 
with  a  thing  savoring  of  the  dark  ages,  like  that, 
Rose?"  asked  Philip,  scoffingly. 

"I  do,  absolutely.  The  dark  ages  are  here,  now. 
We  have  every  century  from  the  tenth  to  the  twen- 
tieth represented  on  this  one  creek  this  minute. 
But,  heaven  helping  us,  we'll  wipe  out  all  but  the 
last,  belore  we're  through." 


CHAPTER  VII 

MAIDS,   MEN — AND  MULES 

ROSE'S  peculiar  prophecy  came  true.  It  should 
be  said  on  Aunt  Lissy's  behalf,  however,  that  she 
acted  with  sincerity  as  well  as  friendliness,  for  her 
warped  brain  must  have  come  to  believe  that  it  had 
actually  envisioned  what  her  new  friend  described 
to  her — otherwise  she  could  never  have  stated  it  so 
convincingly.  Confronted  with  the  true  fiction, 
promptly  reported  by  a  neighbor  to  whom  Aunt 
Lissy  had  told  it,  Mrs.  Tittle  broke  down,  admitted 
it  and  wept  bitterly.  After  all,  she  was  a  mother 
and  had  lost  her  baby.  With  pitying  forgiveness 
Smiles  went  to  her,  was  at  last  received  within  the 
dismal  cabin,  and  departed,  an  hour  later,  with  one 
more  humble  worshipper  added  to  her  list. 

The  news  of  the  drunken  demonstration,  the  sight 
of  the  wanton  destruction,  likewise  helped  to  cause  a 
reaction.  That  afternoon  and  evening  several  of 
the  dwellers  in  Beaten  found  one  pretext  or  another 
for  strolling  up  to  the  House  of  Happiness  and  each, 
before  his  departure,  casually  offered  his  sympathy 
and — what  meant  more — his  friendship.  A  number 
of  them  came  to  call  on  Bill  Cress  and  were  doubt- 
less further  influenced  by  his  positively  violent  ex- 
225 


226  SMILING  PASS 

^pressions  of  fealty  to  his  benefactors.  And  not  a  few 
of  them  volunteered  to  force  their*  multitudinous  off- 
spring to  attend  the  new  school,  Smiles'  diplomacy 
being  several  times  taxed  to  the  uttermost  to  refuse 
their  indiscriminate  offers  without  seeming  so  to  do. 
Margaret  insisted  upon  seizing  the  opportunity  thus 
presented,  and  the  next  afternoon  visited  the  little 
schoolhouse  up  the  creek,  in  company  with  Virgil, 
and — conquering  her  disgust  at  the  sights  and  smells 
— gave  the  pupils  an  appealing  little  talk  on  the 
rudiments  of  ethics  and  citizenship,  for,  although 
they  were  to  pick  and  choose  their  special  material, 
they  meant  to  give  as  freely  as  possible  to  all  those 
of  their  own  neighborhood. 

Moreover,  since  good  things,  like  evil  ones,  seem 
to  come  in  sequences,  Virgil's  evening  ride  over  to 
the  post-office  on  Devil's  Fork  had  produced  the 
day's  crowning  happiness.  He  came  in  waving  aloft 
a  really  sizable  bunch  of  letters  and  while  Rose 
and  Donald  were  opening  them,  laughingly  described 
what  preceded  their  delivery  to  him. 

"Mrs.  Everage,  our  honored  postmistress,  was 
working  up  in  the  field  when  I  arrived,"  he  said. 
"  She  consented  to  come  down,  after  she  had  finished 
picking  the  row  of  beans  on  which  she  was  at  work, 
and,  on  the  way,  told  me  how  nervous  she  was 
over  having  to  keep  on  hand  the  number  of  stamps 
necessary  to  mail  the  'tree  letter'  we've  been  send- 
ing out.  I  guess  that  I  told  you  before  that  the  'post- 
office'  is  one  wooden  box  which  she  used  to  keep  in 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES     227 

the  little  store  she  runs  there.  Well  now  she's  moved 
it  upstairs  and  keeps  it  under  her  bed.  And,  if  you'll 
believe  it,  she  keeps  the  door  to  the  room  locked  and 
goes  up  a  ladder  and  through  the  window  when  any- 
one wants  to  buy  a  stamp  or  get  a  letter.  Can  you 
beat  it?" 

Rose  scarcely  heard  him,  so  absorbed  was  she  in 
the  contents  of  her  mail,  for  almost  all  of  it  had 
come  in  response  to  their  appeal  for  help  in  building 
the  House  of  Service,  in  which  should  be  located 
both  vocational  workrooms  and  dormitories  for  the 
boys,  until  separate  quarters  might  be  provided. 
Almost  without  exception  they  contained  checks 
—most  of  them  for  small  denominations,  to  be  sure, 
but  one  was  for  a  hundred  dollars,  sent  by  the  grate- 
ful father  of  a  child  whose  precious  life  had  just  been 
saved  through  the  skill  of  the  doctors  and  nurses  at 
her  own  beloved  hospital. 

Rose  almost  wept  with  happiness  over  them  and 
exclaimed,  "Thank  God  for  our  unseen  friends! 
Now  I'm  sure  that  we  are  going  to  be  able  to  buy 
those  sacrificial  trees  and  have  our  House  of  Service 
before  winter.  We  can  get  them  sawed  into  lumber, 
somehow,  but  now  we  more  than  ever  need  a  team. 
Oh,  whom  shall  we  appeal  to  next,  to  purchase  a 
nice  pair  of  Smiling  mules  for  us,  Don?  " 

"How  would  it  do  to  circularize  the  whole  Demo- 
cratic Party  with  a  picture  of  a  mule  on  the  appeal? 
Most  people  wouldn't  know  it  from  a  donkey,"  he 
suggested,  in  apparent  seriousness. 


228 SMILING  PASS 

Camilla,  too,  could  not  let  the  occasion  slip  to 
beg  for  the  immediate  purchase  of  a  hand  loom 
so  that  she  might  start  some  of  the  older  and 
brighter  girls  of  the  neighborhood  in  lessons  in  weav- 
ing, for  she  had  for  days  been  dying  to  try  out  a  newly 
discovered  antique  pattern  for  a  "Kivver-lid." 
Omie  had  taken  her  for  a  visit  to  their  old  cabin  one 
day,  and  she  had  unearthed  a  hand-hewn  log,  on 
the  flat  surface  of  which  one  of  the  girl's  long  dead 
ancestors  had  notched  out  the  numerical  directions 
for  the  weaving  of  one,  having  doubtless  brought 
them  over  from  old  England  in  the  treasure  house 
of  memory.  Her  plea  had  started  Virgil  off  and  he 
argued  the  greater  need  of  a  printing-press  for  the 
boys  until  Rose  had  laughingly  driven  them  both 
from  the  room,  crying,  "Oh,  why  didn't  the  coal 
vein  extend  over  the  mountain  into  Webb's  Gap? 
Money,  money,  thou  root  of  all  evil,  how  we  need 
thee!" 

The  next  afternoon  found  the  group  at  Smiling 
Pass  considerably  scattered.  Early  in  the  morning 
Margaret  had  set  out  with  Omie  for  Fayville,  both 
riding  borrowed  mules.  She  announced  that  she 
needed  to  make  a  few  minor  purchases  there  and  then 
deposit  in  the  county's  only  bank  the  balance  of  the 
sum  which  was  her  one  bridge  from  Beaten  to  Boston. 

"I  may  want  to  go  home,  sometime,"  she  said. 
"And  father  is  almost  daily  threatening  by  mail  to 
disown  his  prodigal  daughter  and  cut  her  off  alto- 
gether, unless  she  returns  at  once." 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES     229 

Camille  had  slipped  away  into  the  hills,  called 
thither  by  the  glory  of  the  early  September  afternoon, 
although  her  conscience  smote  her  doubly,  first  be- 
cause it  meant  leaving  Donald  alone  with  Smiles, 
junior — for  Rose  and  John  were  off  on  their  daily 
medical  round — and  then  because  she  had  deliber- 
ately deserted  Philip.  He  had  witnessed  her  guilty 
departure  and  begged  permission  to  accompany 
her,  but  she  had  felt  forced  to  refuse,  reminding  him 
of  the  rule  which  must  not  be  broken.  A  Center 
boy  end  girl  might  not  be  alone  together,  nor — for 
the  sake  of  example — might  a  maid  and  man,  even 
"uncle"  and. "niece."  He,  in  turn,  had  somewhat 
sulkily  departed  on  a  "frolic  of  his  own." 

A  little  out  of  breath  from  the  long,  steep  climb, 
but  rejoicing  in  the  freedom  and  the  exercise,  Cam- 
ille reached  the  mountain's  top  and  made  her  way 
onto  a  huge,  flat  rock  which  jutted  out  into  space 
like  a  natural  cornice  of  gigantic  proportions.  Por- 
tions of  its  surface  were  carpeted  with  thick,  soft 
moss  and  shaded  by  cedars  deep  rooted  in  its  inter- 
secting crevices.  It  made  a  wonderful  place  from 
which  a  moonshiner  might  watch  for  "revenuers" 
or  a  care-free  maid  view  the  outstretching  beauties 
of  nature.  To  Camille,  native  of  a  land  where  high 
hills  and  tall  timber  were  rarities,  the  scene  held  a 
never-ending  charm — the  serried  mountain  sum- 
mits shading  from  nearby  green  through  gray 
and  misty  lavender  to  the  blue  infinity  be- 
yond, and  far,  far  below  the  narrow  valley,  dotted 


230 SMILING  PASS 

with  tiny  homes,  through  which  the  diminished 
creek  wound  like  a  thin  silver  thread  knotted  in  the 
middle,  where  Obie  Draughan's  primitive  mill-dam 
formed  a  broader  pool. 

She  laughed  as  she  brandished  the  stick  which  had 
aided  her  on  her  ascent,  and  sent  a  little  lizard  with 
burnished  copper  head  scuttling  off  a  rock  which 
made  a  natural  seat  upon  which  to  rest.  Dropping 
upon  it,  she  tossed  her  shade  hat  aside  and  then 
swiftly  unbound  the  midnight  mass  of  her  hair  and 
shook  it  out  until  it  fell  in  waves  over  her  shoulders. 
The  faint  sighing  of  the  never-failing  breeze  among 
the  leaves,  the  occasional  notes  of  a  marten  or  a 
warbler  and  the  throaty  cooing  of  a  hidden  turtle 
dove  were  the  only  sounds  breaking  in  upon  Nature's 
majestic  silence.  The  perfect  peace  of  the  place 
which  contrasted  so  strongly  with  the  memoried 
sounds  of  war  among  which  so  much  of  her  life  had 
been  lived,  caused  a  sweet  contentment  to  take  pos- 
session of  her,  although  it  was  underlaid  with  sadness. 

A  crow's  harsh  call  broke  the  spell  and  its  repeti- 
tion in  a  somewhat  unnatural  "caw"  several  times, 
finally  caused  her  to  glance  around.  Close  behind 
her  stood  Virgil,  smiling  boyishly. 

Camille  sprang  to  her  feet  with  a  startled  little 
cry  and  her  hands  flew  to  her  hair  in  a  tardy  attempt 
to  restore  it  to  its  accustomed  smoothness. 

"Please  don't!  It's  lovely  like  that,"  exclaimed 
the  intruder.  "I  suppose  that  I  should  beg  your  par- 
don for  sneaking  up  like  that  but  I  couldn't  help  it." 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES     231 

"You  frightened  me,  Virgie.  And  you  know 
that  you  shouldn't  have  come.  The  rule  ..." 

"Bother  the  rule.  This  is  a  holiday  and,  besides, 
I  just  happened  to  see  you  as  you  climbed  up  here 
— I  was  over  on  the  other  hillside  helping  Marshal 
Foch  hunt  a  rabbit." 

"But  I  don't  like  for  you  to  kill  the  poor  little 
things,"  protested  the  girl  in  a  pained  voice  as  Vir- 
gil's wiry  haired  canine  companion  came  bounding 
noisily  through  the  underbrush  and  flung  himself 
upon  her,  registering  joy  from  nose  to  tail-tip. 

"Don't  worry.  We  didn't  catch  him  and  I'm  so 
out  of  practice  that  I'd  miss  a  rabbit  as  big  as  a 
'nelephant' — as  Rose  calls  it." 

He  laid  his  cap  and  rifle  on  the  ground  and  dropped 
beside  her  upon  the  rock  seat,  lolling  back  lazily, 
supported  by  his  outstretched  arms.  For  a  while 
neither  spoke  content  to  rest  and  drink  in  the  beauty 
fof  the  spot  and  the  day.  But  it  was  not  long  before 
Camille's  conscience  disturbed  her  and  she  again 
reminded  Virgil  of  the  rule  which  they  had  made  for 
the  safe  guidance  of  the  mountain  boys  and  girls 
who  should  later  attend  fehe  school.  A  principle  was 
at  stake  and  the  girl  had  been  convent-bred. 

The  man's  mind  may  have  agreed,  but  his  heart 
was  a  rebel  and  his  tongue  was  its  servant. 

"What  harm  is  there  in  it?  We're  grown  up  and 
there  is  no  one  to  see  us,  anyway,"  he  argued.  "Be- 
sides, you  shouldn't  have  come  up  here  alone.  I 
don't  guess  there's  any  danger  from  animals  nowa- 


232 SMILING  PASS 

days — there  is  nothing  left  but  a  few  foxes  and  ground 
hogs — but  suppose  you  had  met  a  rattlesnake? 
There  are  plenty  of  them." 

Camille  slightly  shuddered  and  shrank  closer  to 
him.  The  touch  of  her  shoulder  against  his  sent  an 
electric  thrill  through  him  and  he  instinctively  moved 
the  hand  upon  which  he  was  leaning  closer  so  that 
his  arm  half  encircled  her  waist.  She  instantly  leaned 
forward  again,  while  a  faint  toning  of  added  color 
appeared  on  her  cheeks.  Made  the  more  eager  by 
her  action,  the  lad  repeated  his  own  and  Camille 
sprang  to  her  feet. 

"But  why  did  you  do  that,  Virgie? "  she  demanded. 
," It  is  not  .  .  .  not  comme  il  faut." 

The  color  heightened  on  her  face,  from  which  the 
hand  of  tune  had  banished  the  look  of  deep-set  sor- 
row in  order  to  restore  there-to  at  last  its  full  meed 
of  girlish  sweetness.  Her  expressive  eyes  were  hidden, 
however,  and  Virgil  therefore  could  not  read  in  them 
her  true  emotions. 

"It  was  .  .  .  from  my  standpoint,  anyway," 
he  answered  eagerly.  "I  .  .  .  I  don't  see  why 
you  should  be  offended,  Camille." 

"And  why  should  I  not  be  offended,  then?" 

"Camille  ....  dear,  you  know  that  I  wasn't 
'just  .  .  .  just  playing.  I  don't  have  to  tell  you 
that  I  care  ....  that  I  ...  I  love  you,  do  I? 
You  must  have  known  it,  anyway,"  he  finished, 
lamely. 

For  an  instant  the  dark  curtain  of  her  lashes  was 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES      233 

lifted,  and  her  wonderful  eyes  seemed  to  him  to  be 
filled  with  a  tenderness  which  made  his  heart  rejoice 
and  hope. 

"It's  true,  Camille,"  he  hurried  on,  seizing  the 
plump  but  shapely  little  hand  which  hung  by  her 
side;  the  other  was  pressed  to  her  breast.  "I  reckon 
that  I've  loved  you  ever  since  that  first  time  I  saw 
you,  at  Fayville.  Every  fellow  says  the  same,  I 
guess,  when  he  comes  to  ask  a  girl  to  ...  to 
marry  him,  but  honestly  I  mean  it,  dear." 

He  stood  up  and  for  a  third  time  attempted  to  take 
her  in  his  embrace  but  she  evaded  him,  saying  hasti- 
ly, "But,  Virgil,  surely  you  .  .  .  you  are  not  now 
asking  me  to  marry  you.  Are. we  not,  then,  of  friends 
the  best?  But  for  marriage — in  America,  at  least — 
is  not  .  .  .  not  love  necessary?" 

"Yes,  and  I  do  love  you,  as  much  as  any  man  could 
love  a  girl.  I  can  offer  you  that,  although  you  know, 
as  well  as  I,  how  little  else  at  present.  But  isn't  love 
the  real  thing  in  marriage?" 

"It  is,  I  think,  the  only  thing,"  she  replied,  gently. 
"Of  the  rest  I  think  not  at  all,  for  what  have  I?  I 
am  but  a  poor  orphan,  with  no  station." 

"Then  you  will  ...  I  mean  you  do  care?"  he 
cried,  catching  her  to  him. 

"No,  no,  Virgie!  I  care,  yes.  Have  we  not  been 
like  brother  and  sister?  But  that  you  must  not  do. 
I  do  not  wish  for  marriage." 

He  dropped  his  arms  instantly  and  stepped  back 
while  a  shadow  darkened  the  eager  light  in  his  eyes 


234 SMILING  PASS 

as  his  thoughts  flowed  into  the  customary  channel 
taken  by  those  of  youth  when  love  has  been  rejected. 
What  could  be  more  illogical,  yet  more  natural, 
than  for  a  man  to  assume  instantly  that,  if  a  woman  • 
refuses  him,  it  must  be  because  she  loves  another, 
when  his  mind  has  been  lacerated  by  the  harrow  of 
love  and  so  made  ready  for  the  quick-growing  seeds 
of  suspicion  and  jealousy? 

"You  don't  want  to  marry  me  because  you  love 
Philip!  It's  the  truth,  isn't  it?"  he  demanded. 

"I  have  not  said  so,  and  why  should  you  think  it?  " 

Indignation  was  at  least  in  part  the  cause  of  the 
new  flush  which  spread  over  her  countenance. 

"But  it  is  true,"  he  persisted,  with  a  note  of  bitter- 
ness in  his  voice.  "You  do  care  for  him." 

"Of  course  I  do.  Why,  then,  should  I  not?  Does 
he  not  call  himself  my  uncle?  " 

"Rot!  I've  been  calling  you  'sister/  but  that 
hasn't  kept  me  from  loving  you  in  an  entirely  dif- 
ferent way.  It's  the  same  with  you  and  him.  I've 
seen  him  looking  at  you." 

"He  doesn't,"  flashed  the  girl. 

"Yes,  he  does.  I'm  not  blaming  him — he'd  be  a 
fool  not  to  ...  not  to  love  you,  I  reckon.  And  I 
guess  that  I  can't  blame  you,  either,"  he  added,  in 
a  tone  in  which  self-commiseration  and  a  brave  at- 
tempt to  appear  generous,  intermingled.  "I'm 
just  a  poor  mountaineer;  he's  got  everything.  And 
he  really  is  a  corking  fellow  .  .  .  only,  well  ..." 

There  was  a  new  tender  appeal  in  Camille's  voice 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES      235 

as  she  quickly  replied,  "But  you  are  wrong,  Virgie. 
I  do  not  think  of  him  .  .  .  that  way,  either. 
Am  I  not  happy  with  Rose  and  Donald  and  in  my 
work?  I  do  not  wish  to  marry  anyone,  yet." 

"All  right.  Let's  forget,  then — only  remember 
that  I  an  going  to  keep  right  on  loving  you  and 
wanting  you,  always,  Camille,"  he  added  with  boyish 
contradiction. 

"That  I  cannot  help,  perhaps.  But  please  tell  me 
that  we  are  still  to  be  friends,  as  before,  n'est-ce  pas, 
mon  ami?" 

"Sure,"  Virgil  responded  with  unnecessary  bois- 
terousness.  He  hesitated  a  moment,  then  offered  her 
his  hand  as  a  pledge. 

Smiling  a  little,  Camille  took  it,  demurely. 

"I  guess  we  had  better  go  down,  now,"  she  said. 

The  youth  agreed.  While  she  was  restoring  her 
hair  to  its  customary  neatness  and  putting  on  her 
attractive  shade  hat  he  turned  away  and  walked  to 
the  extreme  edge  of  the  out-jutting  rock,  where  he 
stood,  statuesquely  outlined  against  the  summer 
sky,  lithe  yet  sturdy,  a  virile  appealing  form.  Some- 
how he  felt  that  it  was  more  than  he  could  do  to 
watch  her  in  that  simple  yet  intimate  little  perfor- 
mance. She  glanced  up  and  saw  him  standing  in  his 
perilous  position  and  her  heart  stopped  for  an  in- 
stant. Then  she  ran  forward,  seized  his  hand  and 
drew  him  back,  pleased  yet  rebelling.  Like  many 
another  youth,  he  exclaimed,  "Pshaw,  there's  no  dan- 
ger. Besides,  you  wouldn't  care  if  I  should  go  over." 


236 SMILING  PASS 

"Is  it  not  a  very  silly  Virgil,  then!  Of  course  I 
should  care,  very  much.  But  come." 

Down  the  steep  mountainside,  climbing  over  rocks 
and  fallen  logs,  breasting  leafy  boughs  and  impeding 
underbrush,  they  ran  and  slid,  much  of  the  time  hand 
in  hand  and  laughing  merrily.  Once,  however,  the 
girl's  gay  laughter  turned,  abruptly,  to  a  little  shriek 
as  they  all  but  trod  upon  a  full  grown  rattlesnake, 
contentedly  sunning  itself  in  an  open  glade.  She 
clutched  Virgil's  arm  so  violently  that  he  missed  a 
perfectly  easy  shot,  and  the  snake  slipped  swiftly 
into  the  tall  grass  with  an  angry  hiss  and  disappeared, 
unscathed.  For  some  time  thereafter  she  clung  tightly 
to  his  hand  and  he  offered  up  a  silent  prayer  of  grati- 
tude to  the  creature  God  had  cursed. 

Just  as  the  two  emerged  fron  the  final  fringe  of 
the  forest  above  the  House  of  Happiness  they  came 
face  to  face  with  Malvary  Amos  who  had  likewise 
been  hunting  in  the  hills.  The  younger  lad's  dark 
face  took  on  a  sneering  expression,  and  he  drawled, 
"  Seems  like  the  rule  you're  always  preachin'  abaout 
haint  in  force — when  you  don't  want  hit  tew  be, 

Virgie.  Ef  me  and  Omie  hed  been  up  thar  together 
» 

"That's  enough,"  retorted  the  other,  and  Camille 
saw  the  cords  in  his  neck  grow  suddenly  taut  with 
his  effort  to  control  himself.  "Rule  or  no  rule  Omie's 
my  sister  and  I've  told  you  to  leave  her  alone." 

Malvary's  black  eyes  narrowed  and  burned 
angrily.  But  he  merely  gave  utterance  to  a  sarcastic 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES     237 

laugh,  and  turned  abruptly  away.  Virgil  muttered 
an  expletive  under  his  breath  and  the  girl  laid  her 
hand  imploringly  on  his  arm. 

"But,  no,  Virgie.  We  have  done  wrong,"  she  said, 
generously  sharing  the  blame,  "And  look!  There 
are  Smiles  and  John;  they  have  seen  us,  too." 

She  pointed  down  towards  the  creek  where  the 
man  and  woman  were  on  the  point  of  crossing  from 
the  further  side  over  a  series  of  natural  stepping 
stones,  the  final  one  of  which  was  some  distance 
from  the  bank.  They  saw  John  leap  and  then  turn 
to  Rose,  encouragingly.  She  followed  and  he  caught 
her.  There  was  nothing  actually  partaking  of  an  em- 
brace in  the  position  of  his  arms,  yet  he  did  not  in- 
stantly release  her,  and  Virgil  exclaimed,  "I  wish 
that  John  hadn't  come!" 

"But  why?  Is  he  not  of  great  help  to  us?" 

"Yes,  I  suppose  so,  but  ...  I  don't  like  it. 
We're  personally  good  friends,  and  he's  a  fine  fellow 
in  spite  of  his  moodiness,  but  I'm  getting  worried. 
Don't  you  think  yourself  that  he  is  in  love  with 
Rose,  Camille?" 

"No!   Why,  he  can't  be,"  she  cried  in  distress. 

"Nothing  easier  in  the  world.  It  would  be  more 
strange  if  he  wasn't  for  she's  the  most  wonderful, 
dearest  woman  in  .  .  ."he  stopped,  stammering 
a  little,  but  Camille  promptly  and  positively  agreed, 
only  to  add  however,  "But  she  is  married  to 
Donald  and  loves  him  with  all  her  heart." 

"Of  course  I'm  not  saying  that  she  cares  for  him 


238 SMILING  PASS 

— that  way — although  I  know  that  she  likes  him 
tremendously,  and  they're  together  a  lot.  But  if  he 
is  in  love  with  her,  it  may  make  trouble;  for  him- 
self, anyway.  Do  you  know,  I  have  an  idea  that 
Donald  thinks  the  same  as  I  do.  I've  seen  him  look 
kind  of  troubled  sometimes." 

"No,  no.   It  isn't  so,"  protested  the  girl,  positively. 

But  it  was,  even  at  that  very  moment.  Never  for 
an  instant  doubting  his  wife,  a  new  pain  had  been 
added  to  Donald's  more  than  full  quota.  Try  as 
he  would  to  be  cheerful  and  companionable,  the 
bitterness  bred  of  his  physical  anguish  increased 
daily,  and  he  knew  that  his  irritability  must  in 
time  have  its  effect  even  on  Smiles'  wonderful  love 
for  him.  There  was  he,  chair-ridden,  no  longer 
a  suitable  mate  for  a  woman  filled  to  the  brim 
with  abounding  life  and  activity.  And  there, 
with  her  almost  constantly,  was  a  man  radiating 
mental  and  physical  force,  deeply  interested  in 
the  things  in  which  she  was  bound  up,  body  and 
soul.  And  that  man  worshiped  her!  How  long  could 
his  strong  sense  of  honor  hold  his  passion  within  due 
bounds,  and  silence  the  call  of  his  heart? 

The  four  trampers  reached  the  veranda  simul- 
taneously, and  turned  to  look  toward  the  creek  road 
whence  at  that  moment  had  come  a  hail  in  Omie's 
vigorous  young  voice. 

Startled  surprise  cut  short  their  answering  hails. 
For  Omie  was  riding  towards  them  alone,  and  lead- 
ing by  the  bridle  the  second  of  the  borrowed  mules. 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES     239 

Into  the  mind  of  each  sprang  the  thought,  "Could 
Margaret  have  been  hurt?"  and  there  came  an  even 
sharper  little  clutch  at  Rose's  heart  as — for  just  an 
instant — she  harbored  the  further  thought,  "Could 
her  trip  to  Fayville  have  been  a  subterfuge  merely, 
and  she  have  deserted  them,  after  all?" 

All  four  ran  down  the  steps  and  the  steep  path 
toward  the  gate,  at  which  Omie  had  already  dis- 
mounted with  the  freedom  of  a  boy.  Philip  likewise 
came  hastening  to  join  them,  down  the  creek  road. 
But,  before  a  question  could  be  voiced  by  any  of 
them,  their  attention  was  arrested  by  the  appearance 
of  a  strange-looking  vehicle  around  the  nearby  bend 
in  the  road.  Drawn  by  a  pair  of  sleek  young  mules 
was  the  skeleton  underbody  of  a  jolt  wagon  with  an 
up-ended  soap  box  attached  to  the  front  axle  for 
an  improvised  seat.  And  on  it  was  Margaret, 
clad  in  a  thin  muslin  waist,  expensively  tailored 
divided  skirt,  and  tan  shoes  and  silk  stockings — all 
badly  splashed  and  bedraggled.  Her  golden  hair  was 
flying  in  every  direction  in  shimmering  wisps  and  her 
hat  was  over  one  ear,  but  the  everlasting  jouncing 
had  not  banished  the  merry  smile  from  her  lovely 
face  She  waved  her  hand  gaily  to  them,  but  its  firm 
grasp  was  instantly  needed  on  the  reins,  for  the 
mules,  whose  home  was  a  few  miles  further  up  the 
creek,  had  broken  into  a  smart  trot.  In  vain  she  tried 
to  stop  them,  crying  "Whoa"  incessantly.  For  home 
they  were  bound,  and  so  like  a  feminine  John  Gilpin, 
she  bounced  past  the  amazed  group  clustered  in  the 
open  gateway. 


240 SMILING  PASS 

"Head  them  into  the  creek,  Margaret!"  shouted 
Virgil,  as  both  he  and  Philip  sprang  in  pursuit.  She 
obeyed,  pulling  on  the  left  rein  with  all  her  might 
and  the  necessity  of  stepping  down  among  the  boul- 
ders caused  the  animals  to  slow  down  and  stop. 

"Margaret,  what  on  earth  does  this  mean?" 
demanded  Rose  in  utter  bewilderment,  as  the  strange 
outfit  finally  drew  up  beside  her. 

As  Philip  reached  up  his  long  arms  and  bodily 
swung  the  girl  to  the  ground  she  waved  a  dramatic 
hand  and  cried,  "Behold,  my  ticket  home!  If  I 
ever  go,  now,  I'll  have  to  walk  or  drive  these.  Can 
you  imagine  the  prodigal  daughter  riding  up  historic 
Beacon  Street  thus?"  She  laughed  merrily. 

"But  .  .  .  but  you  aren't  going  to  tell  us  .  .  .?" 
Rose  stopped  from  sheer  incredulity. 

"You  wished  for  a  team,  behold  a  fairy  has  waved 
her  golden  wand  and  here  it  is — most  of  it,  at  least. 
They're  mine — OUT'S  I  mean — or  will  be  when  the 
other  seven-eighths  of  their  purchase  price  is  paid. 
I  bought  them  'a  dollar  down  and  a  dollar  a  week 
for  life',  tra-la-la." 

"Oh,  please  be  serious,  Margaret." 

"But  I  am — almost,  anyway.  The  little  dears 
were  standing  right  in  front  of  the  bank,  just  beg- 
ging to  be  bought,  and  their  owner  was  in  a  selling 
state  of  mind,  except  that  he  couldn't  be  persuaded 
to  part  with  the  body  of  the  wagon — it  was  his  own 
invention  and  he  had  made  it  himself — so  I  bought 
it  without,  for  fifty  dollars  on  account,  and  the 


MAIDS,  MEN— AND  MULES      241 

balance  when  he  catches  me,  although  the  agreement 
and  note  which  your  friend  the  lawyer  drew  up, 
says  thirty-days,  like  a  police  court  sentence.  Aren't 
they  the  darlings?"  Margaret  fondled  the  two 
velvety  black  noses  and  chattered  on,  "The  thought 
of  owning  them  is  ever  so  much  more  exhilarating 
than  having  a  ticket  on  that  horrible  railroad  or 
money  in  the  bank." 

"You  perfectly  darling  girl,  come  here  and  kiss 
me!"  Rose's  eyes  were  mistily  luminous  and  there 
was  a  tremulous  smile  on  her  lips.  "We'll  pay  for 
them — somehow." 

"We  will;  if  I  have  to  pawn  my  rings  by  mail  in 
order  to  do  it." 

"Margaret,  you're  a  brick!"     exclaimed  Philip. 


CHAPTER  VIH 
AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES" 

SAVE  for  the  occasional  mooing  of  a  vagrant  cow, 
the  grunting  of  many  pigs,  and  the  pattering  of  in- 
termittent showers  upon  the  roofs,  Sabbath  peace 
and  quiet  reigned  in  Smiling  Pass.  Virgil  and  the 
three  girls  had  ridden  up  to  "Devil's  Fork"  to  at- 
tend the  "preachin' "  in  the  little  schoolhouse 
there — Margaret  and  Camille  principally  out  of 
curiosity,  it  must  be  confessed — and  the  other  four 
adults  of  the  household,  together  with  the  baby, 
who  was  asleep,  were  severally  engaged  in  the  living 
room-office. 

Rose  was  bending  happily  over  some  long-post- 
poned mending,  an  amused  smile  playing  about 
the  corners  of  her  sensitive  lips  as  her  thoughts 
reverted  to  Margaret's  dramatic  arrival  on  the  even- 
ing before.  Looking  up  from  the  portable  typewriter 
which  stood  upon  a  board  stretched  acrooss  the  arms 
of  his  chair,  Donald  saw  it  and  smiled  sympathe- 
tically. Then,  with  a  smothered  sigh,  he  returned  his 
gaze  to  the  keys  which  he  was  pounding  with  two 
of  his  big  fingers,  trained  to  the  most  delicate  surgery. 
There  was  a  large  pile  of  envelopes  still  to  be  ad- 
dressed to  possible  helpers,  and  he  had  volunteered 
242 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"     243 

for  the  work.  His  wife's  attentive  ears  caught  the 
sound  of  the  sigh  and  it  was  echoed  in  her  heart. 
Oh,  the  pity  of  it  all!  She  glanced  sympathetically 
at  him. 

John  Hunter  was,  as  usual,  deep  in  the  study  of  a 
medical  treatise  upon  the  margin  of  which  he  was 
making  frequent  notes,  for  discussion  with  Donald 
kter.  Philip  stood  looking  out  of  the  window,  dream- 
ing. It  was  his  last  day  in  the  House  of  Happiness, 
and  he  was  anything  but  happy. 

At  length  Rose  tossed  her  sewing  upon  the  table 
and  exclaimed,  "I  shall  simply  die  if  I  don't  get 
out-of-doors  for  a  little  while.  Wouldn't  you  like 
to  go  out  on  the  porch,  Don?  " 

"Like  to  well  enough,  but  can't  yet.  This  bunch 
must  get  off  tomorrow,"  answered  her  husband. 

"Let  it  go.   I'll  finish  it  bye  and  bye." 

"  'Bye  and  bye ''you'll  have  a  hundred  and  one 
other  things  to  do,  and  you  know  it.  Besides,  it's 
my  job — about  the  only  kind  of  thing  I'm  qualified 
for  now." 

His  words  were  clipped  short  and  carried  the  tang 
of  bitterness.  Rose  went  to  his  side  and  lightly  laid 
her  hand  across  his  mouth.  He  pushed  it  petulantly 
away,  then  seized  it  almost  passionately  and  pressed 
it  back  against  his  lips.  John  did  not  lift  his  eyes 
from  the  page,  but  his  straight  lips  drew  still  closer 
together. 

"I'm  sorry,  Smiles,"  apologized  Donald.  "I 
know  I'm  beastly  company  to-day.  I'll  tell  you; 


244 SMILING  PASS 

Philip  has  been  wanting  you  to  take  him  up  to  visit 
your  much-commented-on  Aunt  Lissy,  why  don't 
you  do  it  now?  I  guess  that  she's  the  only  one  any- 
where up  and  down  the  creek  whom  he  hasn't  met, 
and  she  must  be  a  wonder,  if  one  can  believe  half 
the  things*  which  you  say  about  her." 

"She  is,  Don.  Why,  if  it  had  been  her  lot  to  be 
born  higher  up  the  social  scale  she  would  be  an  un- 
disputed leader  in  society,  or  in  something  else.  I 
wish  that  you  could  see  her." 

"Yes,  let's  go,  Rose— if  Donald  doesn't  mind  be- 
ing left  alone  for  a  few  minutes,"  said  Philip,  turn- 
ing abruptly  from  the  window. 

"Not  a  bit  ...  I'm  used  to  it,"  added  the 
other  man  under  his  breath,  and  his  wife's  face  grew 
sad  again. 

"Would  you  like  to  come,  too,  John?"  she  asked, 
for  the  sake  of  politeness,  more  than  half  hoping  that 
he  would  refuse. 

"Thanks."  Dr.  Hunter  methodically  closed  his 
book  and  stood  up,  towering  above  the  other  two. 

Rose  bent  and  tenderly  kissed  the  silver  patch 
above  her  husband's  temple,  then  ran  into  their 
bedroom  to  don  coat,  and  tam-o-shanter  while  the 
two  men  went  to  their  own  quarters  for  raincoats. 
Then  they  set  briskly  off  down  the  creek  and,  as 
they  were  about  to  pass  out  of  sight  of  the  house, 
Rose  turned  and  waved  her  hand.  Donald  re- 
turned her  parting  salute  and  then  leaned  back  in 
bis  cushioned  chair,  the  smile  which  he  had  con- 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"      245 

sciously    summoned  to    his   lips    fading   away   into 
lines  of  pain. 

"Oh,  God\  To  walk  like  that  again!"  He  spoke 
through  clenched  teeth. 

Rose  commanded  them  to  stop  at  Judd's  half- 
constructed  store,  which  was  open  and  already  do- 
ing business  in  a  few  staples,  saying,  "We  must  buy 
a  twist  or  two  of  strong  chewing  'terbacker,'  Phil. 
It  may  or  may  not  be  true  that  the  way  to  a  man's 
heart  is  through  his  digestive  cavity,  but  it  certainly 
is  that  the  course  to  Aunt  Lissy's  confidence  is  through 
her  few  remaining  'chawin'  teeth." 

Philip  made  the  purchase,  following  Judd's  sug- 
gestion as  to  brand.  Thrusting  the  cruller-like,  dry, 
brown  twist  into  the  side  pocket  of  his  outing  jacket, 
he  remarked,  "What  a  filthy  habit  this  chewing  is. 
Why  don't  you  try  to  stop  it?" 

"Might  as  well  attempt  to  stop  them  from  eating 
hog  and  hominy,"  responded  John,  bluntly;  but 
Rose  was  not  fully  in  accord. 

"As  to  the  older  generation,  yes,  John;  but  our 
boys  and  girls  will  not  chew  when  they  grow  up, 
and  you  know  the  force  of  example.  It  is  filthy,  of 
course,  although  they  insist  that  smoking  is  worse; 
but,  if  they  get  any  comfort  and  enjoyment  from  it, 
we  shouldn't  condemn  them  too  severely,  remem- 
bering their  bringing-up.  I  despise  it,  and  yet 
I  can't  begrudge  them  that  simple  pleasure; 
heaven  knows  that  they  have  few  enough  joys." 


246  SMILING  PASS 

"I  suppose  that  you're  right,  Smiles,"  agreed 
Philip.  "But  to  see  women — old  women,  who  seem 
as  though  they  should  resemble  Grandma  Bentley 
and  be  sweet  and  gentle  .  .  .  . " 

"  'Old  women'?  There  aren't  any  in  these  moun- 
tains, or  only  a  very  few.  Someone,  I've  forgotten 
who  it  was,  put  the  truth  in  an  apt  paradox:  'the 
old  women  are  all  dead  and  the  young  women  all 
old.'  It's  true.  They  are  merely  bearers  of  burdens 
and  children,  Philip — pack  animals.  Why,  I've  seen 
Aunt  Lissy  herself  plowing  her  steep  mountainside 
farm,  teamed  up  with  a  mule,  and,  if  you're  ever 
here  at  harvest-time,  you'll  see  almost  all  of  them 
plodding  down  these  hills  at  eventide,  after  labor- 
ing all  day  in  the  corn  fields,  with  their  patient  backs 
bent  double  beneath  the  weight  of  heavy  sacks  of 
corn.  Do  you  wonder  that  they  look  old  at  thirty, 
when  they  work  like  that,  besides  getting  married 
at  fifteen  or  sixteen  and  having  annual  babies?  I 
don't;  but — God  helping  us — the  younger  genera- 
tion will  be  different." 

For  a  little  further  they  walked  on  in  silence  down 
the  rough  and  muddy  cart-path,  single-file.  Rose 
continued  in  front  and  John,  close  behind  her,  kept 
his  piercing  gray  eyes  fixed  almost  hungrily  on  the 
nape  of  her  neck,  where  a  straying  curl  was  fast  be- 
coming begemmed  with  rain-drops  which  beat  in 
beneath  her  tarn.  Suddenly  she  stopped  and  pointed 
up  the  hillside  to  a  patch  of  green  in  which  a  bare- 
foot man  was  hoeing,  calling  back  to  Philip,  "That 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"    247 

— if  you  don't  already  know  it — is  'sang/  Philip. 
You  won't  find  the  name  in  your  dictionary, 
though — it's  our  mountain  corruption  for  'gin 
seng.'  They  used  to  grow  lots  of  it  hereabouts, 
and  found  a  highly  profitable  market  for  it,  most  of 
it  going  eventually  to  China,  of  course.  But  there's 
little  now;  it  was  too  much  work  to  raise  it."  She 
sighed  then  added  the  information,  "The  native  rule 
for  growing  'sang'  is  two  parts  shade  and  one  part 
sunshine — like  the  life  in  these  hills." 

"Tell  me  something  about  this  witch-doctor  of 
yours.  I'd  like  to  have  the  background  before 
I  see  her,"  suggested  Philip,  as  the  path  broadened 
and  they  fell  in  step,  side  by  side  again. 

"Well,  although  she's  in  some  respects  typical 
of  her  generation,  she's  also  exceptional,  as  you  will 
see  for  yourself.  She  says  that  her  grandpappy 
came  from  old  Virginia,  and  if  you  don't  declare 
that  you  find  traces  of  a  'F.  F.  V.'  ancestry  in  her 
face  I  shall  never  forgive  you.  Her  man  was  in  the 
civil  war — she  is  also  exceptional  in  being  fairly  old, 
you  see — and  later  he  spent  some  years  in  the  peni- 
tentiary. While  he  was  'away'  she  earned  a  meager 
living  for  herself  and  her  numerous  brood  by  travel- 
ing all  over  the  county  with  a  old  'yarb'  doctor,  as 
his  assistant  and  nurse,  leaving  the  children  at  home 
with  enough  food  for  two  or  three  weeks,  but  other- 
wise to  shift  for  themselves." 

"The  dickens!"   interpolated  her  brother. 

"Isn't  it  pathetic?     But  that  was  her  only  live- 


248 SMILING  PASS 

lihood,  and  was  made  necessary  by  the  way  sickness 
was — and  still  is  to  some  extent,  for  that  matter — 
taken  care  of  in  these  mountains.  The  native  doctor 
or  nurse  simply  goes  and  camps  at  the  cabin  of  the 
sick  person,  along  with  as  many  volunteers  from 
among  the  near  neighbors  as  can  come,  until  the 
patient  gets  well. " 

"Or  dies,"  added  John. 

"Exactly.  It  seems  incredible  to  one  trained  as 
we  have  been,  Phil,  but  they  pack  in  like  that, 
and  it  is  also  a  favorite  courting  time  for  young 
couples,  who  will  'sit  up'  together  and  carry  on  their 
low- voiced  love-making  before  the  fire  while  the  rest 
either  considerately  stay  outdoors  or  go  to  sleep 
where  they  can  on  the  floor." 

"I  don't  blame  the  patient  for  dying!"  exclaimed 
her  brother. 

"Nor  I.  Well,  Aunt  Lissy  used  to  go  like  that  from 
cabin  to  cabin  when  the  call  came,  receiving  as 
payment  for  her  expert  services  bags  of  corn  and 
the  like,  which  she  would  tote  back  home  on  her 
shoulder  when  she  thought  that  the  children's  larder 
must  be  getting  low.  I'll  never  forget  a  story  that 
Joshuy — her  middle-aged  youngest  boy  who  still 
lives  with  her — told  me,  a  few  days  ago,  about  the 
way  those  pitiable  kiddies  once  started  out  a-foot, 
led,  perhaps,  by  the  hand  of  God  in  their  pathetic 
pilgrimage  over  the  hills,  in  search  of  their  mother. 
They  stopped  nights  at  whatever  cabin  they  chanced 
to  reach,  and  one  evening,  weary  of  heart  and  their 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES" 

little  bare  feet  bruised  and  bleeding,  they  fairly 
stumbled  upon  the  home  where  she  was  staying. 
I  can't  attempt  to  tell  the  story  as  he  did — poor 
sub-normal  creature — but  it  was  heart-breaking." 

"Evangeline,"  said  Philip,  softly. 

Rose  turned  and  started  across  the  creek.  The 
rain  had  swelled  its  shallow  waters  until  they  covered 
the  stepping-stones  almost  ankle-deep,  but  she 
splashed  on,  unconcernedly,  and  the  men  followed. 
A  brief  but  strenuous  climb  up  a  trodden  path  brought 
them  to  a  paling  fence  in  a  dilapidated  condition. 
Within  it  a  mongrel  dog  bristled  and  growled,  a  black 
pig  grunted,  and  a  huge  white  gander  craned  his 
neck  and  hissed  hostility  through  wide-opened 
orange  beak,  until  a  man  slouched  out  of  the  door  of 
the  cabin  and  flung  a  stick  in  their  midst. 

"That's  Joshuy,"  said  Rose,  and  added  in  a  low 
voice,  "Isn't  the  setting  perfect?  If  she  could  only 
move  it  near  some  city  she  could  make  enough  in  a 
year,  telling  automobilists '  fortunes,  to  ride  in  a 
motor  car  herself." 

She  laughed  at  the  ludicrousness  of  the  mind  pic- 
ture which  her  remarks  invoked,  and  was  interrupted 
by  an  exclamation  from  Philip. 

"Great  Scott,  did  you  hear  that?"    he  demanded. 

A  rooster  had  just  finished  a  challenging  cock-a- 
doodle-do,  and  the  dog  had  thrown  his  head  into  the 
air  and  emitted  a  howl  which  was  an  almost  perfect 
imitation  of  it. 

Rose    laughed    again.       "Aunt    Lissy's    'haound 


250  SMILING  PASS 

dawg'  is  also  locally  famous  because  of  that  very 
accomplishment,"  she  explained,  and  Joshua  grin- 
ned, toothlessly,  calling,  "Come  in.  He  won't  hurt 
you." 

They  entered  the  open  door  to  the  one  room  which 
was  all  the  house,  and  complied  with  the  man's 
further  invitation  to  seat  themselves  on  the  low, 
home-made  stool  chairs  before  the  fire.  Smiles  im- 
mediately fell  into  conversation  with  the  old  woman 
sitting  there,  on  the  subject  of  her  sore  leg.  But  the 
shuddering  fascination  of  these  mountain  cabins' 
picturesque  squalor  had  not  yet  worn  off  for  Philip, 
and  for  a  moment  he  gazed  about  him  at  the  window- 
less  interior  with  its  two  wall  bunks  covered  with 
dirty,  rumpled  quilts,  the  cluttered  up  board  table, 
and  the  strips  of  rags,  strings  of  dried  beans  and 
pieces  of  yellow  kershaw  which  hung  from  the  rafters. 

Then  he  turned  his  look  upon  the  gaunt,  bent, 
yet  striking  figure  of  the  old  woman,  now  alternately 
flipping  up  a  corn  cake  cooking  upon  an  old  spider 
set  among  the  coals,  and  unwinding  the  bandage 
about  her  bare  leg  in  order  that  she  might  exhibit 
the  nearly  healed  sores  to  her  nurse.  Her  face, 
beneath  a  red  bandana  handkerchief  from  the  con- 
fines of  which  straggling  locks  of  gray  hair  protruded, 
struck  and  retained  his  interest,  for  it  was  as  Rose 
had  said.  Despite  the  fact  that  it  was  nearly  tooth- 
less, and  the  corners  of  its  mouth  stained  with  to- 
bacco juice,  Aunt  Lissy's  countenance  was  almost 
patrician  in  the  strength  and  regularity  of  its  fea- 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"     251 

tures  and  in  the  wonderful,  deep-set  eyes  which, 
as  they  dilated  and  narrowed,  seemed  to  glow  like 
coals.  It  was  the  face  of  a  true  pioneer 

"Hit's  dewin'  right  well,  madam."  Their  hostess 
was  speaking  in  a  steady  voice,  tuned  to  the  open 
places  and  still  commanding.  "I  reckon  thet  you 
hev  cured  me  and  I  loves  you  fer  hit.  I'll  always  love 
you,  and  ef  we  don't  never  see  each  other  again  in 
this  world  I  hopes  tew  meet  you  in  Heaven."  She 
paused  to  expectorate  into  the  fire  and  Joshua,  who 
had  reseated  himself  and  was  unconcernedly  whet- 
ting a  knife,  followed  suit.  "Who  mought  the  other 
furriner  be  thet  you  hve  brung  with  you?"  she  de- 
manded with  startling  abruptness. 

"This  is  my  brother,  Dr.  Bentley." 

"You're  welcome;  all  uv  Mistress  MacDonal's 
friends  air  welcome  hyar.  Hev  you  cum  from  aout 
in  the  U-nited  States,  too?" 

Philip  looked  a  bit  surprised  but  Rose  quickly 
answered  for  him.  . 

"Yes,  Aunt  Lissy.  He  is  from  up  North  in  Boston 
— where  I  lived,  you  know.  This  is  Aunt  Lissy's 
son — Joshuy,"  she  added  by  way  of  introduction. 
Philip  gave  a  friendly  nod,  and  the  mountaineer 
grinned. 

"Yes,  sir.  Joshuy  hyar,  he's  my  least  one,"  said 
the  old  woman,  leaning  forward  with  her  thin  elbows 
on  her  knees'  and  her  scrawny  hands  extended  to  the 
fire.  "I  hev  fifteen  childrun,  sir,  three  uv  'em  livin* 
and  the  rest  startin'  a  little  home  fer  me  in  Heaven. 


252 SMILING  PASS 

I  don't  guess  thet  hit'll  be  long  a-fore  I  air  movin' 
on  tew  j'ine  them  thar." 

"Oh,  no,  Aunt  Lissy,"  Rose  hastened  to  interrupt 
and  added,  with  a  significant  glance  towards  Philip, 
"You  have  someone  taking  care  of  you  now;  you 
know  who  I  mean." 

"Yes,  I  knows.  But  you  hadn't  better  talk  abaout 
him — the  gentlemen  mought  be  skeered;  you  mought 
be." 

"Oh,  I  don't  believe  so — not  very  scared,  anyway. 
Doctors  aren't  easily  frightened,  and  I  was  in  the 
war,  you  remember." 

"You  kaint  tell  me  nothin'  abaout  war"  Aunt 
Lissy's  voice  rang  out  challengingly.  "My  pappy 
and  my  man  was  in  one,  and  I  knows  all  abaout 
hit.  Yes,  madame,  and  I  kin  shoot  a  gun  better'n 
any  man  on  this  hyar  creek,  and  I  knows  haow 
tew  fix  a  bay'net,  and  chargel"  As  she  spoke  her 
eyes  flashed  and  her  corded  arms  carried  out  a 
dramatic  pantomime  of  throwing  a  rifle  to  her  shoulder, 
then  whipping  a  bayonet  from  her  belt,  affixing  it 
and  thrusting  it  home.  "And  I  knows  haow  tew  form 
a  line  uv  battle,  and  when  tew  hev  the  drums  rolled 
to  kiwer  up  the  cries  uv  the  waounded." 

Rose  shuddered,  thinking  of  France.  Then  she 
cajoled,  "But  you  were  going  to  tell  us  about  the 
time  you  saw  the  devils  through  the  cracks  of  the 
floor,  Aunt  Lissy." 

"I  war  and  I  will.  What  I  aims  tew  tell  you  air 
the  gospel  truth,  gentlemen,  and  I  expects  you  tew 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"      253 

believe  hit,  fer  hit's  so."  Her  son  grinned  again  and 
gave  a  broad  wink,  whereon  his  mother  shrieked, 
"You  hush,  Joshuy!  Hit  air." 

She  looked  at  her  visitors  and  continued  earnestly, 
"I  hed  been  a-lyin'  powerful  sick  fer  nigh  on  tew 
five  y'ars  on  thet  very  bed,  thar  ..." 

"But,  Aunt  Lissy,"  Smiles  broke  in,  "you  can 
cure  other  folks;  why  .  .  .?" 

"I  allows  thet  I  can — I  hev  cured  a  powerful  heap 
uv  'em;  sometimes  with  yarbs,  sometimes  by  faith, 
whar  they  hed  the  faith  tew  believe  in  my  power. 
But  thet  time  I  couldn't  aid  myself.  You  know  thet 
hit  war  said  uv  Him  thet  hung  upon  the  sturdy  tree 
uv  the  cross,  'He  saved  others,  Hisself  He  could  not 
save/  and  I  reckon  hit  was  like-a  thet  with  me. 
Leastwise,  thar  I  lay,  nigh  untew  dead  ..." 

She  paused,  passed  the  back  of  her  hand  across 
her  lips  and  then  began  to  fumble  in  the  pocket  of 
her  soiled,  ragged  skirt  with  its  many  patches.  Rose 
motioned  to  Philip,  and  he  produced  the  two  twists 
of  dark  tobacco  leaves  and  offered  them,  saying, 
"Perhaps  you,  or  your  son,  use  this,  Aunt  Lissy." 

"I  does,"  promptly  replied  the  old  woman,  her 
bony  hand  anticipating  Joshua's.  "What's  your 
price  fer  hit?" 

"No  price  at  all — at  least,  your  hospitality  more 
than  pays  for  it.  I  just  happened  to  get  it  when  I 
was  buying  some  smokes." 

"Then  ef  you  smoke,  I  don't  reckon  thet  you  use 
terbacker.  Me,  I  don't  smoke  much  except  once  in 


254 SMILING  PASS 

a  while  jest  a-fore  I  goes  tew  bed.  Hit  sorter  stops 
the  hankerin'  fer  a  chaw,  if  you  wake  up  in  the  night, 
whatever." 

She  took  a  generous  bite  of  the  twist,  and 
continued. 

"Wall,  one  mornin'  es  I  war  a-layin'  thar  I  opened 
my  eyes  and  saw  .  .  .  somethin'  ...  I  don't 
know  what,  big  and  white  a-standin'  over  me.  Hit 
hed  eyes  es  big  es  pewter  plates  and  they  war  all 
full  uv  flashes.  I  tell  you,  madame,  I  war  more 
skeered  then  than  ever  I  hed  been  in  all  my  life.  I 
shore  thought  my  time  hed  cum." 

"And  no  wonder/'  agreed  Philip,  seriously. 

"Hit  warn't;  nary  a  bit,  sir.  Wall,  I  started  fer 
tew  set  up,  but  hit  pushed  me  back  and  said,  'Lay 
doawn,  thar,  Lissy.  I  hev  cum  tew  take  keer  uv  you.' 
Thet's  what  hit  said,  madame,  and  I'm  tellin'  you 
the  gospel  truth." 

"Do  you  think  that  .  .  .  that  the  Lord  sent 
it?"  asked  Rose,  as  breathlessly  in  earnest  as  though 
she  had  not  heard  it  all  before. 

"Certainly  He  done  hit,  madame-  Wall,  I  lied 
back,  weaklike,  with  my  eyes  closed.  Then  I  looked 
agin.  Shore  enough  thar  hit  stood,  big  and  white, 
with  hits  great  eyes  a-nashin'.  Then  I  seed  more 
eyes  a-flashin'  up  through  all  the  cracks  uv  the  floor, 
thar.  Thar  war  hundreds  uv  them  and  I  war  more 
skeered  yet,  but  hit  said,  'You  lay  daown  thar, 
Lissy.  I  won't  let  'em  hurt  you,'  and  hit  began  tew 
lash  et  them  with  a  whip  thet  hed  spikes  in  hit,  es 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"     2551 

~~~  ^~  j 

long  es  this."  She  measured  off  some  three  inches 
between  her  two  bent  and  blackened  fore-fingers, 
adding,  "And  hit  druv  them  way,  screechin'  terri- 
bul." 

The  girl  was  ready  with  her  next  leading  question. 
"But  you  aren't  afraid  of  it  anymore,  are  you,  Aunt 
Lissy?" 

"No,  madame;  hit's  my  friend.  I  can  call  hit  tew 
me  when  I  needs  hit,  and  sometimes  hit  comes  in 
different  shapes — like  a  man  walkin'  up  the  creek 
when  I'm  a-hoein'  in  the  gyarden.  Hit'll  cum  up  and 
shake  hands  with  me,  but  hit  kaint  fool  me.  I  knows 
hit  by  hits  eyes,  and  then  hit  laughs,  'ha,  ha,  ha'!" 
Her  imitation  was  rather  sepulchral. 

"By  Jove,  that's  interesting,"  said  Philip,  heartily, 
and  his  sister  agreed,  adding  insinuatingly,  "  Don't  you 
think  that  you  might  tell  the  doctor's  fortune  before  we 
go,  Aunt  Lissy?  I'm  sure  that  he'd  like  to  have  you." 

"I'll  dew  hit  ef  he  likes,  madame." 

"Well,  rather!"    Philip  agreed. 

"I  can  tell  hit  two  ways — by  the  inner  eye,  or 
you  can  make  your  own." 

Rose  explained  in  a  whisper  that  the  latter  method 
necessitated  his  drinking  tea  with  her,  in  which  case 
she  would  read  the  leaves  and  Philip,  with  a  concealed 
grimace,  hastily  responded,  "We  can  stay  only  a 
few  minutes  more,  Aunt  Lissy.  The  'inner  eye' 
will  be  quicker  and  probably  just  as  good.  Suppose 
you  try  that  way." 

The  old  woman  turned  and  stared  fixedly  at  him 


256 SMILING  PASS 

with  her  left  eye,  the  while  slowly  rubbing  the  closed 
lid  of  her  right  with  her  grimy  fore-finger. 

"I  air  a-studin'  your  fortune,  naow,"  she  said. 
"Ef  you  haint  long  tew  stay  I  don't  aim  tew  tell 
you  the  past,  fer  you  knows  hit  already.  But  I  kin 
see  thet  you're  a  man  uv  larnin,'  sir.  Yes,  you  hev 
a  fine  head-piece,  and  knows  a  powerful  heap  uv 
things,  I  can  see  thet.  And  you  makes  a  heap  uv 
1  money — and  spends  hit,  too." 

Philip  smiled  and  nodded  in  rueful  agreement. 

"You're  a  fine,  up-standin'  young  man  and  every- 
one loves  you.  Thar's  one  woman  thet  loves  you 
right  smart,  but  you  don't  keer  much  fer  her,  yet. 
No,  naovr  you  loves  two  women  a  little,  and  kaint 
seem  tew  choose  a-tween  'em,  but  you  hev  got  tew 
dew  hit,  someday." 

The  man  started  and  colored  a  trifle,  despite  his 
effort  to  laugh  and  appear  unconcerned,  whereupon 
Aunt  Lissy  chuckled,  throatily,  and  continued, 
"I  could  describe  'em  tew  you,  but  maybe  you'd 
rather  I  wouldn't  whilst  the  others  are  hyar." 

"Yes,  better  not,"  laughed  Rose.  "He  might  be 
embarrassed." 

"Horribly!  I'll  come  again,  alone,  and  find  out 
who  the  two  charmers  are,  for  I'm  sure  that  I  don't 
know,  myself." 

" I  reckon  you  dew,  sir,"  grinned  the  woman.  "But 
y<m  CUM  again  and  see  ef  I  haint  right.  Do  you  want 
»c  tew  tell  your  fortune,  too?"  she  demanded, 
terning  with  startling  abruptness  to  Dr.  Hunter. 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"     257 

"I  should  be  glad  to  have  you,"  answered  John, 
in  his  deep,  even  voice. 

"I  haint  so  sartain  uv  thet,  sir.  I  don't  guess 
you'd  love  fer  me  tew  tell  abaout  your  past  right 
naow  and  I  won't.  But  I  could,  sir,  I  could."  She 
nodded  slowly.  "You  work  harder  than  the  other 
gentleman,  but  you  don't  succeed  so  well;  and 
you  loves  harder,  but  hit  haint  no  use.  Thar  haint 
never  been  but  one  woman  in  your  heart,  and  she 
haint  fer  you,  and  she  haint  never  goin'  tew  be  fer 
you.  She  belongs  tew  another." 

Rose's  effort  not  to  show  her  quick  distress  was 
futile.  She  felt  the  hot  flush  spreading  over  her  neck  and 
face,  and  was  afraid  even  so  much  as  to  glance  at  John ; 
but,  although  she  kept  her  eyes  steadily  fixed  on  the 
fire,  she  could  sense  the  sudden  tension  in  the  man's 
big  frame  and  her  heart  cried  out,  for  instinct  told 
her  that  his  soul  was  being  pilloried.  "Yes,  you 
loves  her  right  smart,"  the  woman  droned  on.  "But 
she  don't  love  you,  although  she's  your  friend  and 
always  will  be  your  friend,  cum  what  may.  The 
love  witches  ride  you  often — they  rid  you  last  night. 
I  can  charm  'em  away,  'though,  ef  you  have  faith  in 
my  power — you've  got  tew  hev  faith."  Without 
waiting  for  permission  she  leaned  forward  and  placed 
her  sooty,  clawlike  forefinger  on  Dr.  Hunter's  fore- 
head. Slowly,  seriously,  she  circled  it  three  times 
about  each  of  his  eyes  and  ran  it  up  and 
down  and  across  the  bridge  of  his  nose.  Then 
her  fingers  leaped  to  his  hair  and  pulled  it  sharp- 


258  SMILING  PASS 

ly  in  several  places.  Satisfied,  she  leaned  back 
and  remarked,  "They're  gone,  but  you  musn't  wash 
or  brush  your  hair  until  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morn- 
ing, or  hit'll  sp'ile  the  charm." 

He  nodded,  looking  a  little  foolish,  and  she  went 
on,  "Yes,  you  hev  hed  grave  trouble  in  the  past, 
sir,  and  the  future  is  darker  yet.  Thar's  more  trouble 

afore  you — and  blood.      I  see  a  dark  young  man 
» 

Rose  sprang  to  her  feet.  "Please,  Aunt  Lissy! 
That's  enough  for  to-day,"  she  cried. 

"It's  a  damned  sight  too  much,"  muttered  Philip, 
who  was  becoming  most  uncomfortable. 

"I  .  .  .  I  .  .  .It's  time  we  were  getting  back 
to  the  Pass,"  continued  the  girl,  unhappiness  alike 
in  her  face  and  voice. 

The  fortune-teller  started  a  little,  and  her  set 
countenance  relaxed. 

In  a  more  natural  tone  she  remarked,  "Dew  stay." 

"We  can't — not  now,  Aunt  Lissy.  You  come  over 
with  us." 

"No,  I  kaint.    You-all  stay  hyar;  stay  the  night." 

"We've  got  to  go,  dear.  But  we'll  come  again, 
all  of  us.  Of  course  I  mean  to  keep  on  coming  almost 
every  day,  until  your  leg  is  healed.  I  hope  that  we 
haven't  bothered  you." 

"No,  you  haint  disfurnished  me  none.  I  love  tew 
hev  folks  drap  in  hyar.  Wai,  ef  you-all  kaint  stay 
I'll  tell  you  'good-bye.'  You  air  a  good  woman  and 
I'd  like  tew  buss  your  hand,  fer  I  loves  you."  Philip 


AUNT  LISSY'S  "FORTUNES"     259 

was  startled,  for  the  old  English  word  meaning  "to 
kiss"  was  not  in  his  vocabulary,  but  he  understood 
as  Aunt  Lissy  bent  and  touched  Rose's  palm  gently 
with  her  lips. 

Smiles  patted  their  hostess'  gnarled  hand  affec- 
tionately and  he  did  likewise,  saying,  "I'm  sure  that 
I  shall  come  when  I  return  next  year,  Aunt  Lissy." 

"I  hopes  so,  fer  I  loves  you  better'n  any  furriner 
I  ever  seed,  sir.  Yes,  madame,  your  brother  air 
the  mixin'est  man  I  hev  ever  met  up  with." 

"I'm  so  glad  that  you  like  him,  Aunt  Lissy,  for 
he  really  is  a  dear,"  smiled  his  sister  and  she  slipped 
her  hand  into  Philip's  and  hastily  drew  him  towards 
the  door.  Once  out  of  ear-shot  she  turned  to  the 
other  man,  and  exclaimed,  "Oh,  John,  I'm  so  sorry 
about  that  silly  fortune- telling!" 

Dr.  Hunter  laughed — it  was  a  short  laugh,  without 
mirth,  and  his  lips  did  not  smile.  "Don't  give  it  a 
thought.  Of  course  none  of  us  really  believe  the 
ravings  of  that  poor  cracked-brain." 

"Not  even  what  she  said  about  Phil?"  demanded 
Rose,  eager  to  give  the  affair  a  lighter  turn. 

"  Well,about  him,yes,  perhaps.  Certainly  he  got  the 
full  value  of  his  chewing  tobacco,  in  appreciation." 


PART  III 

THROUGH  SHADOW  TO  SUNSHINE 


CHAPTER  I 

IN  RETROSPECT 

"SMILING  PASS  Post  Office  (Note  that,  sir!) 
Philip,  dear: 

These  are  sealed  orders  from  your  (sister)  superior, 
and  not  to  be  treated  as  lightly  as  was  my  humble 
invitation  last  summer.  The  idea  of  anyone  prefer- 
ring the  battle  fields  of  France  to  those  of  the  Cum- 
berlands  for  a  vacation,  as  you  did  a  year  ago!  This 
time  I  will  positively  not  take  no  for  an  answer. 
To  quote  Virgil,  who  is  everlastingly  dinning  the  words 
into  the  ears  of  the  little  boys,  '  Don't  make  excuses. 
Make  Good!' — and  come  for  a  few  days,  even  if  you 
cannot  take  your  full  vacation  so  early. 

But  I  am  forgetting  my  orders: 

'Sir:  You  will  report  for  pleasure  at  Smiling  Pass, 
in  the  Land  of  the  Saddlebags  on  (or  before)  Easter 
Sunday,  March  the  2yth,  1921.' 

You  must  come,  Philip.  It  is  an  anniversary  and 
all  sorts  of  things  are  going  to  happen.  Two  years 
ago,  on  that  memorable  date,  we  arrived  in  the  hills; 
two  months  to  a  day  later  the  first  cedar  post  which 
supports  the  northeast  corner  of  the  House  of  Happi- 
ness was  put  in  place,  and  this  year  we  dedicate  the 
fine  new  Community  building — the  House  of  Friend- 
liness— and  what  more  fitting  opening  could  we  have 
than  a  sacred  service  on  Easter,  the  day  when  we 
especially  commemorate  a  new  and  broader  vision? 
263 


264 SMILING  PASS 

To  tell  the  truth,  I  had  to  fight  for  it  against  an  al- 
most united  Council,  for  Judd  was  more  bitterly 
opposed  to  me  than  ever  before  and  Virgil,  strangely 
enough,  agreed  with  him.  You  see  some  of  the  nar- 
row 'Reg'lar  OF  Babtists'  still  retain  then:  misguided 
hostility  to  us  and  one,  picturesquely  known  as 
Preacher  Stammerin'  Sam,  has  taken  our  many 
mistakes  as  occasions  for  bitter  tirades  against  us. 
Judd  has  been  wild — he  wants  the  right  to  criticize, 
but  will  permit  it  to  no  one  else — and  he  fought 
hard  against  letting  them  hold  a  service  here.  But 
I  maintained  that,  if  we  refuse  to  open  our  doors 
with  Christian  charity,  our  enemies  will  have  a 
right  to  draw  the  conclusion  which  many  of  them 
have  drawn,  without  any  justification,  and  call  us 
heathens  or  apostles  of  some  false  doctrine.  Of 
course,  there  is  much  in  the  way  that  they  practice 
religion  to  which  I  object,  but  it  is  their  faith  and 
they  have  a  right  to  have  their  children  brought  up 
in  it.  The  Easter  preachin'  is  to  be  held  at  Smiling 
Pass  in  the  new  House  of  Friendliness,  built  through 
the  generosity  of  graduates  of  your  college,  and  thanks 
in  no  small  measure  to  you,  my  dear.  It  will  in- 
terest you,  for  it's  a  far  cry  from  St.  Paul's  in  Bos- 
ton to  an  old  fashioned  Baptist  preachin'  in  Beaten. 
Come  and  see. 

Nor  is  that  the  only  'feature'  scheduled  for  our 
Spring  Opening.  On  May  Day  .  .  .  but  again, 
'Come  and  see.' 

I've  shamefully  neglected  my  personal  corre- 
spondence since  coming  here  and  you  have  good  reason 
for  complaint — and  I  an  equally  good  excuse.  Now,  in 
retrospect  it  seems  to  me  two  centuries  since  you  rode 
so  gallantly  out  of  the  picture,  on  one  of  Margaret's 
sleek  mules,  and  I  can  hardly  wait  to  see  you  again. 


IN  RETROSPECT 265 

Butin  the  actual  living,  each  new  day  has  seemed  ended 
before  it  was  half  begun,  for  every  one  has  been  so 
filled  with  a  multitude  of  events  that  they  fairly 
crowded  the  precious  moments  out.  'Who's  making 
excuses  now,  and  hackneyed  ones  at  that?'  I  hear 
you  say.  They  are  true,  but  if  I  did  not  know  that 
Camille  and  Margaret  had — the  former  with  com- 
mendable regularity  and  the  latter  occasionally — 
joined  in  making  vicarious  atonement  for  my  sins 
of  omission,  I  should  be  penitent  indeed. 

However,  our  letters  in  conjunction,  plus  the 
pamphleted  appeals — copies  of  which  have  always 
been  sent  you  and  never  in  vain — must  have  given 
you  a  fair  idea  of  how  matters  have  progressed  with 
us  in  these  two  short  years;  at  least  in  a  material  way. 
Still,  I'll  wager  that  you  will  hardly  know  us.  When 
you  left,  our  institution  was  just  an  infant  at  the 
creepy-crawly  age,  like  Smiles,  junior.  It  has  not 
quite  kept  pace  with  her,  for  she,  the  darling,  is  run- 
ning everywhere  on  her  two  plump  little  legs;  but 
it  has  at  least  struggled  to  its  knees,  the  proper  pos- 
ture for  prayer,  alike  of  thanksgiving  and  for  future 
blessings.  Now,  if  our  ever-growing  number  of  help- 
ful friends  will  only  continue  to  lend  their  support 
until  some  millionaire  catches  the  vision's  gleam 
and  endows  us  with  the  financial  strength  to  arise 
and  stride  goalward,  even  though  the  road  be 
as  rough  as  our  other  mountain  paths,  all  will  be 
well.  Please  become  a  millionaire,  Philip! 

We  talk  big  in  our  'literature' — it  would  never  do 
to  frighten  away  a  single  dollar  by  so  much  as  a  hint 
to  a  contributing  friend  that  the  sawmill,  the  print- 
ing-press, the  hand  looms,  the  boys'  and  girls'  dormi- 
tories, the  dining  hall,  etc.,  ad.  inf.  were  nothing 
but  dream  things,  existing  only  in  our  enthusiastic 


266 SMILING  PASS 

imaginations.  That  is  all  they  were,  once,  yet  they 
are  actualities,  now,  bought  or  built  upon  faith, 
hope  and  charity — charity  which  has  eventually  paid 
one  hundred  cents  on  the  dollar  for  each  and  every 
one  of  them.  Oh,  we  have  played  our  part  in  the 
prevailing  wave  of  crime  and  purchased  a  multi- 
tude of  needed  things  on  credit,  having  no  real  as- 
surance that  we  would  ever  get  the  money  with  which 
to  pay  for  them. 

And  now  the  mountainside  is  fairly  blossoming 
with  a  pale  yellow  duster  of  buildings,  big  and  little, 
constructed  of  new  boards  which  two  years  ago  were 
hidden  deep  in  the  hearts  of  mighty  trees,  a-waiting 
the  thud  ot  the  choppers'  axes  and  the  screech  of 
the  first  steam  saw-mill  in  the  county  to  call  them 
into  being  for  the  service  of  mankind-  In  their  midst 
still  stand  the  House  of  Happiness  and  the  House  of 
Health — their  original  progenitors — although  they 
have  had  many  a  storm  within  and  without  to 
weather.  Each  remains  true  to  its  name,  the  former 
more  than  ever,  for  Donald  has  been  materially 
better  this  past  year,  so  much  so  that  I  have  often 
wondered  at  his  being  willing  to  remain,  but  not  a 
word  does  he  say  about  leaving  now.  The  task  has 
gripped  and  held  him,  as  it  has  all  of  us.  Of  course, 
he  is  not  fully  well,  he  is  forced  to  walk  with  a  limp 
and  a  cane  and  any  over-exertion  or  prolonged  wet 
spell  sends  him  back  to  his  chair  of  pain.  I  wonder 
if  an  operation  forcibly  to  stretch  the  sciatic  nerve 
might  not  now  be  beneficial? 

As  for  myself,  why  should  I  not  be  happy,  with 
Junie  the  healthiest,  happiest,  prettiest  and  brightest 
baby  that  ever  lived  (there,  who's  a  proud  parent!), 
Donald  more  and  more  frequently  his  old  adorable 


IN  RETROSPECT 267 

self,  and  the  rest  the  best  associates  that  woman  ever 
worked  with  in  a  wonderful  cause. 

Virgil  is  all  that  he  gave  youthful  promise  of 
being;  need  more  be  said?  The  boys  follow  him,  in 
vocational  work  and  play,  with  almost  fanatic 
fervor,  and  our  teams  clean  up — that  is  the  right 
expression,  isn't  it? — in  every  kind  of  sport. 

But  if  they  admire  him,  they  worship  Margaret. 
And  no  wonder.  Her  civic  organization  and  clubs 
are  positively  inspirational.  Whenever  I  get  a  tiny 
bit  blue  I  slip  down  to  a  meeting  of  the  Little  Boys' 
Club  and  they  restore  my  flagging  faith,  with  their 
manliness  and  enthusiasm.  They  are  indeed  true 
'Knights  of  the  Smile.'  You  may  have  read  the 
story  of  the  change  in  her  between  the  lines  of  her 
letters,  but  could  have  only  in  part.  Wait,  and 
you'll  see  it.  All  the  mountaineers  love  her  as  much 
as  we  do;  she  is  so  sweet,  so  friendly,  so  deeply  pur- 
poseful under  her  merry  exterior  and  so  charitable 
— in  the  true  sense  of  the  word. 

So  I  might  go  on,  enthusing  over  Camille,  the 
beloved  big  sister  of  all  our  girls;  and  John — he  is 
as  unchanged  and  unchanging  as  the  hills  them- 
selves, and  as  dependable;  and  Omie,  who  has  grown 
into  an  utterly  fascinating  young  lady,  as  full  of 
moods  as  the  month  of  April,  perhaps,  but  as  wel- 
come— she  takes  the  lead  in  everything  from  pranks 
to  prayers;  and  'Mally'  who  is  as  swift  in  thought 
and  action  as  his  uncle  Judd  is  slow — by  all  odds 
our  most  capable  boy  in  school  and  work — and  at 
the  same  time  a  perpetual  worry.  One  never  knows 
where  he  is  going  to  break  out  next,  and  he  and 
Virgil  are  still  at  swords  points  most  of  the  time. 
I  am  writing  humorously,  but  it  is  no  jesting  matter. 
Only  last  week  we  had  to  lecture  him  severely  and 


268 SMILING  PASS 

then  discipline  him  by  taking  away  all  his  privi- 
leges, because  he  smuggled  his  rifle  into  his  room — 
a  thing  which  is,  of  course,  absolutely  'taboo.' 

Oh,  it  is  a  merry  life,  each  moment  bringing  a  new 
problem  which  needs  must  be  grasped  with  an  iron 
hand  in  a  velvet  glove. 

But  it  is  worth  all  the  work  and  worry,  Philip. 
It  would  be,  if  we  were  merely  serving  our  imme- 
diate neighbors  and  helping  to  make  their  drab 
lives  a  little  brighter  by  supplying  medical  atten- 
tion, teaching  those  who  crave  knowledge  to  read 
and  write,  and  giving  them  better  clothing  at  purely 
nominal  prices,  thanks  to  the  generous  gifts  which 
we  receive.  For  they  are  responsive  and  friendly, 
in  the  main,  now,  although  occasionally  things  go 
wrong — often  from  what  seems  like  the  most  trivial 
cause.  And  then  the  school  is  blamed,  of  course; 
there  are  again  sullen  looks  and  flurries  of  open  hos- 
tility when  we  have  to  call  on  good  preacher  Paul  to 
spread  the  oil  of  conciliation  on  the  troubled  waters 
of  Beaten  Creek,  and  on  Bad  Bill  to  stand  guard 
for  a  few  nights  over  the  sawmill  for  the  sake  of  our 
temporal  safety.  That  poor  mill  seems  to  have  to 
bear  the  brunt  of  everything.  Already  its  tin  smoke- 
stack has  twice  been  riddled  by  bullets,  its  boiler 
once  almost  blown  up  by  cartridges  hidden  therein, 
and  its  saw  utterly  ruined  by  spikes  driven  in  logs 
waiting  to  be  made  into  boards. 

But  we  merely  smile  and  go  on!  All  that,  light 
and  shadow  alike,  is  merely  incidental  to  the  main 
cause,  and  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  never  known 
so  supreme  a  satisfaction  as  that  which  comes  from 
observing  the  almost  infinitesimal  advance  which 
we  make  therein  each  passing  month — a  new  evi- 
dence of  initiative  in  one  of  the  boys,  who  has  come 


IN  RETROSPECT 


to  us,  perhaps,  from  ten  miles  distant,  to  learn  the 
great  things  in  life — self-reliance,  leadership,  service; 
a  new  smile  on  some  clean  face  which  had  known  only 
grime  and  apathy;  a  new  promise  of  regeneration 
— not  for  our  own  boys  and  girls  alone,  but,  through 
them,  for  a  whole  people  who  are  now  dwelling  among 
the  shadows. 

Do  you  remember  telling  me,  two  years  ago,  that 
we  might  fail  in  our  attempt,  but  that  it  seemed  to 
you  to  be  the  only  solution  of  the  mighty  problem 
which  exists  here?  Every  day  I  become  surer  of  the 
truth  of  your  conclusion.  And  we  shall  not  fail. 

Virgil's  vision  is  still  leading  us  on,  along  the 
Road  to  Fulfillment.  Come-.  .  .  and  see  if  it  is 
'not  so! 

Affectionately  your  sister, 

ROSE. 
March  third,  Nineteen  Twenty-one." 


CHAPTER  II 
"THE  PREACHIN'  " 

EASTER  MORN  had  come  and  Rose  was  outwardly 
all  smiles,  for  Philip,  merry  and  lovable  as  of  old, 
had  obeyed  orders  and  was  with  them  again,  as  in- 
timately one  of  the  family  circle  as  though  he  had 
never  dropped  out  of  it. 

But,  in  spite  of  her  happiness  over  having  him 
there,  and  the  high  hopes  which  were  hers  of  a 
still  better  understanding  between  Smiling  Pass 
and  the  few  who  still  obstinately  refused  to  recog- 
nize it  as  a  substitute  for  Beaten  Creek,  her  heart 
was  subject  to  occasional  qualms.  Her  plan  held 
possibilities  of  danger,  as  well  as  those  of  great  gain 
for  the  Cause.  If  anything  went  wrong  .  .  .  !  But 
she  would  not  permit  her  mind  to  harbor  such  a 
thought. 

The  worshipers  began  to  gather  very  early  in 
the  morning.  From  miles  up  and  down  the  creek 
and  its  adjacent  passes  they  came.  Those  who  dwelt 
in  the  immediate  vicinity  arrived  afoot,  whole  fami- 
lies of  them.  The  rest  came  on  horse  or  mule  back 
— whole  families  of  them,  too.  They  wore  their 
Sunday  clothes,  which  in  nowise  differed  from  their 
garments  of  everyday  save  for  the  addition  of  socks 
270 


"THE  PREACHIN'  »  271 

muddy  boots  and  old,  soiled  coats  worn  by  the  men, 
and  hideous  "store"  hats  or  picturesque  sun-bonnets 
by  the  women  and  girls. 

Into  the  new  House  of  Friendliness,  muddy-footed, 
they  trooped,  and  to  their  native  shyness  in  the 
presence  of  strangers  was  today  added  something 
of  awe.  For  the  new  hall  was  of  truly  magnificent 
proportions  in  their  eyes,  and  magnificently  bright 
from  the  blaze  of  sunlight  flooding  through  the 
many  windows  on  three  of  its  sides — as  unlike  their 
tiny,  dark  dwellings  as  was  conceivable.  Pulverized 
sandstone  and  plenty  of  water,  employed  by  the  boys 
under  the  strict  eye  of  the  immaculate  Camille, 
had  made  its  floors  and  woodwork  shining,  spot- 
less white. 

The  three  doctors  were  in  Donald's  study,  but 
Rose,  Margaret  and  Virgil  began  early  to  mingle 
with  the  ever-growing  crowds  and  welcome  each 
new  arrival  with  friendly  hand-clasp  and  spoken 
greeting. 

Smiles'  heart  sank  a  little  when  among  the  first 
to  come  appeared  Preacher  "Stammerin'  Sam." 
The  impediment  in  his  speech  did  not  apply  to  its 
vituperation.  He  had  been  especially  invited — a 
course  which  had  been  settled  upon  as  the  lesser  of 
two  evils — ;  but,  unless  his  open  hostility  to  the 
work  should  have  been  disarmed  by  the  invitation, 
danger  indeed  lay  ahead.  She  knew  the  hair-trigger 
natures  of  the  mountaineers;  she  also  knew  the 
sleeping  volcanos  within  the  breasts  of  her  husband 


272  SMILING  PASS 

and  Dr.  Hunter  alike,  and  Philip's  impetuosity. 
What  would  come  of  it  if  this  visitor,  who  had  been 
"called"  to  preach  the  truth  as  he  saw  it,  without 
fear  or  favor,  should  feel  himself  impelled  to  use 
this  heaven-sent  opportunity  to  carry  the  battle  into 
what  he  considered  the  enemy's  camp,  openly  abusing 
his  hosts  to  their  faces  and  in  their  own  home? 

"Bewar'  uv  the  wolves  in  sheep's  clothing;  bewar* 
uv  the  furriners  thet  cum  amongst  us  with  glib  tongues, 
pretendui'  tew  aid,  but  intendin'  fer  tew  destroy 
what  we-all  holds  sacred,  and  set  up  false  faiths  in 
hits  place."  Only  a  fortnight  previously  Preacher 
Sam  had  spoken  those  very  words  to  his  little  con- 
gregation, and  she  had  not  dared  to  repeat  them  to 
Donald.  Now,  within  an  hour  he  might  say  them 
again;  and  worse. 

Furthermore,  the  woman  within  her  rebelled. 
She  loved  her  mountains  and  their  simple  people; 
she  had  a  deep,  a  passionate  pride  in  them,  and  her 
heart  ached  at  the  thought  that  they  might  be  mis- 
judged by  her  dear  ones  because  of  the  manner  and 
utterance  of  one  who  represented  the  worst  of  his 
kind.  Inspired,  after  his  own  manner,  he  might  in- 
deed be — "  God  moves  in  a  mysterious  way  His  won- 
ders to  perform,"  and  often  chooses  strange  instru- 
ments through  which  to  work  His  will.  But  she 
knew  that  he  was  narrow  and  illiterate,  suspicious 
and  uncleanly.  He  would  preach  after  his  fashion, 
of  course.  What  impression  would  it  make  on  Donald, 
on  the  fastidious  Philip,  on  the  refined,  city-bred 


"THE  PREACHIN'  "  273 

Margaret,  on  little  Camilla,  raised  in  the  impressive 
solemnities  of  the  Roman  Catholic  church,  and  to 
whom  cleanliness  was  indeed  next  to  godliness? 

As  the  women  and  their  numerous  broods,  together 
with  a  few  of  the  older  men,  entered  and  took  their 
seats,  the  neatly  arranged  chairs  were  moved  hither 
and  yon  and  all  semblance  of  order  was  soon  lost. 
The  bell  rang.  The  school  children  were  marshaled 
to  their  places  by  Camille.  Donald,  Philip  and 
John  followed,  and  Virgil  and  Margaret  joined 
them  in  their  corner. 

A  pitifully  young  mother  started  to  nurse  the 
squalling  infant  whose  peaked  face  and  red  eyes 
looked  out  from  a  soiled  shawl,  rebellious,  as  though 
he — with  Job — would  curse  the  day  when  he  had 
been  born.  A  gaunt,  withered  grandmother — Aunt 
Lissy's  sister,  Phronie — spit  liberally  upon  the  spot- 
less floor.  Their  guests  had  brought  their  squalor 
— their  habits  of  a  lifetime — with  them.  Through 
unshed  tears,  alike  of  shame  and  anger,  Rose  glanced 
about  the  room  and  the  spirit  of  battle  was  re-born 
within  her. 

What  if  they  had?  She  would  some  day  carry  their 
antitheses — sunshine  and  cleanliness — into  their 
homes,  God  helping  her.  For  they  were  worth  work- 
ing and  fighting  for,  these  pure-blooded  Anglo- 
Saxons.  And  they  could  be  saved,  the  coming  genera- 
tions, at  least.  There  was  pure  gold  under  the  un- 
lovely soil,  whatever  some  might  contend.  The 
remarkable  facial  beauty  of  many  of  the  younger  girls, 


274 SMILING  PASS 

a  fineness  which  dirt  and  the  most  unbecoming  of 
clothes  could  not  conceal,  showed  that.  And  then 
her  eyes  turned  to  her  own  little  flock  of  school  chil- 
dren, bright,  clean,  neatly  dressed — the  first  fruits 
of  the  harvest.  She  smiled. 

Not  all  were  yet  within-doors.  Most  of  the  men 
and  boys  lay  or  lounged  around  in  the  warm  sun 
outside,  and  the  clatter  of  hoofs  which  told  of  new 
arrivals  was  frequently  heard. 

At  last,  obedient  to  Rose's  whispered  request, 
Preacher  Paul — one  of  the  three  ministers  who  had 
come  for  the  occasion — rose  from  his  seat  in  the 
front  of  the  room,  hymn  book  in  hand.  "We  will 
start  the  service  .  .  ."  he  began. 

There  was  the  sound  of  excited  voices  outside. 
A  man  appeared  in  the  open  doorway  and  shouted, 
"Cum  aout  uv  that,  all  uv  you." 

Preacher  Sam  was  the  first  to  obey,  and  the  rest, 
young  and  old,  followed  like  sheep,  crowding  in  haste 
through  the  doorway.  Even  the  children  of  the 
school  followed,  filled  with  curiosity  or  panic  over 
the  unknown,  and  the  men — save  Donald — left 
their  corner  to  discover  the  cause  of  the  disturbance. 
Rose  was  too  filled  with  concern  to  move  from  her 
husband's  side,  and  the  two  looked  at  each  other 
with  questioning  eyes,  while  the  hubbub  outside 
grew,  many  voices  being  mingled  in  excited  demands, 
exclamations  and  unintelligible  explanations. 

Only  a  minute  or  two  passed,  however,  before  the 
tumult  subsided  almost  as  quickly  as  it  had  com- 


"THE  PREACHED  "  275 

menced,  and  the  people  began  to  flock  back  into  the 
room  with  looks  equally  divided  between  amusement 
and  chagrin. 

"What  on  earth  was  the  matter? "  implored  Rose, 
as  her  brother,  John,  and  Virgil  approached,  almost 
bursting  with  laughter. 

"False  alarm,"  whispered  Philip. 

"But  what  was  it?" 

Virgil  answered.  "You  remember  the  big  barrel 
of  gasoline  for  the  lamps — the  one  with  the  red  band 
around  it,  marked  'DANGER' — that  we  keep 
under  the  porch?  Noey  Scytha  discovered  it  when 
he  led  his  horse  in  there  to  hitch  him.  It  was  a  new 
one  on  him  and — well,  you  know  the  suspicion  that 
we  mountain  folks  have  of  anything  unknown." 

"Good  Lord,  he  wasn't  afraid  of  it?"  demanded 
Donald. 

"Scared  to  death;  thought  that  it  was  a  bomb  or 
an  infernal  machine." 

"Virgie,  you  don't  mean  it!"     gasped  Margaret. 

"Sure  as  you're  born,  Margaret.  When  I  got  out 
there,  almost  every  mother's  son  of  them  had  a 
different  explanation,  each  more  absurd  than  the 
other.  Some  were  swearing  that  we  were  Germans; 
others,  agents  for  the  grasping  coal  corporation 
that  has  been  after  their  property,  and  that  we  had 
invited  them  here  to  blow  them  to  bits  so  that  we 
could  steal  their  lands." 

"And  get  blown  up  ourselves  at  the  same  time?" 

"Whoever  heard  a  mob  stop  to  reason?"     said 


276 SMILING  PASS 

Rose,  smiling  pityingly.  She  knew  their  natures  and 
could,  in  part,  appreciate  their  fears.  "What  did 
you  do?" 

"Opened  it  up.  Let  'em  handle  it,  smell  it,  taste 
it.  Poured  a  little  out  on  the  ground  and  set  it  afire. 
Told  half  a  lie — said  it  was  a  kind  of  kerosene." 

Philip  was  laughing  and  simultaneously  trying  to 
turn  his  laughter  into  an  innocent  spasm  of  coughing. 

"Don't!"  said  Rose  rather  sharply.  "Will  I  ever 
be  able  to  make  you  realize  that  things  like  this  are 
not  laughing  matters,  but  deadly  serious?  Of  course 
this  was  funny  and  perhaps  we  can  laugh  when  we're 
alone — now  that  it  has  come  out  all  right — but  for 
a  moment  I  was  scared  dark  blue.  Well,  let's  pray 
that  the  bad  beginning  will  mean  a  good  ending." 

Now  the  gathering  was  again  complete  and  Preacher 
Paul  opened  the  preliminary  song  service.  Rose 
bravely  took  the  initiative  and  soon  almost  the 
whole  roomful  were  singing  in  unison  of  lusty  male 
and  squeaky  female  voices  the  song  which  Billy  an- 
nounced, line  by  line.  To  the  uninitiated  Philip, 
the  painfully  dragged  melody  with  its  everlasting 
portamentoes  and  quavers  was  at  first  torture,  but 
in  tune  the  plaintive  appeal  of  the  hymn  reached  his 
heart  and  he  found  himself  first  humming,  and  then 
singing,  it  in  his  well-trained  baritone.  Indeed, 
Preacher  Billy  later  confided  to  Rose  that  if  her 
brother  had  not  accustomed  himself  to  be  bound 
by  printed  notes  he  could  learn  to  be  a  real  good 
singer  in  a  few  months. 


"THE  PREACHIN'  "  277 

A  long  prayer  by  Preacher  Billy  followed,  during 
which  he  called  loudly  and  oft  upon  the  Lord  for  aid 
and  blessing — not  for  himself  alone  bu+  for  all  the 
brethren,  sisters  and  friends.  And,  as  he  prayed, 
he  swayed  his  body  up  and  down  and  lifted  his  long 
arms  in  appeal  to  heaven.  Finally  he  arose  from  his 
knees  and  began  to  speak,  at  first  in  his  ordinary 
voice  but  soon  in  rhythmic  exhortation  like  a  sten- 
torian chant.  Rose's  heart  warmed  as  she  listened. 
He,  at  least,  had  not  failed  her!  His  message  was 
one  calling  for  repentance  and  re-birth,  ere  the  day 
of  judgment,  the  hour  of  whose  coming  no  man 
knew,  should  arrive,  but  it  was  a  message  of  univer- 
sality and  filled  with  the  quickening  spirit  of  true 
Christianity.  When  the  inspiration  left  him  and  he 
sat  down,  weary  and  perspiring,  she  flashed  him  a 
Uttle  smile  of  appreciation  and  gratitude. 

But  the  end  was  not  yet. 

"Stammerin' "  Sammy,  the  one  who  had  been 
the  most  virulent  in  his  opposition  to  the  work,  was 
now  on  his  feet.  His  heavy,  unaccustomed  boots 
clumped  noisily  forward  until  he  stood  in  the  center 
of  the  congregation,  where  he  took  off  his  coat,  tos- 
sed it  to  one  of  the  men,  hitched  up  his  suspenders, 
one  end  of  which  was  attached  by  a  nail  to  his  old 
riding  breeches,  and  loosened  his  collarless  shirt 
front  until  a  sizable  patch  of  his  woolen  undervest 
was  displayed.  To  all  appearance  he  was  going  into 
battle  I 

With  visible   distress   Rose   turned   to   the  little 


278  SMILING  PASS 

group  around  her.  "I'm  horribly  afraid  that  he  is 
going  to  be  pretty  bad,"  she  said  in  an  undertone. 

"Poor  man,  he's  not  to  blame  for  being  narrow 
and  blindly  bound  up  to  the  old  order  of  things  which 
brooks  no  change.  If  he  .  .  .  if  he  says  anything 
against  us  ...  unpleasant,  let's  pretend  that  we 
haven't  heard  or  taken  it  to  ourselves,  please. 
Innocence  is  our  best  armor.  You  know  what  is 
said  about  putting  on  the  coat  that  fits." 

Donald  pressed  her  hand  with  a  reassuring  clasp, 
and  whispered  back,  "We'll  hold  on  to  our  chairs. 
Besides,  it  looks  as  though  you  need  not  worry.  We're 
not  likely  to  understand  even  if  he  does  slam  us. 
I,  for  one,  can  make  out  hardly  a  word  that  he  is 
saying." 

Nor  was  that  strange.  The  speaker's  halting 
syllables  were  so  multiplied  by  his  stammering 
tongue  and  so  interrupted  by  frequent  inarticu- 
late sounds  and  the  clicking  together  of  his  lean 
jaws,  that  his  words  were  almost  unintelligible. 
Yet  Rose,  who  was  used  to  his  speech,  was  able  to 
make  out  the  gist  of  his  introductory  remarks. 

"I  haint  had  no  eddication,  friends.  Two  weeks 
in  school  was  all  I  ever  had.  I  haint  a  man  uv  larnin' 
and  uv  myself  I  kin  do  nothin' — nothin'  while  the 
Spirit  is  cold.  And  I  hev  a  poor,  stutterin'  tongue, 
but  the  Lord  what  healed  the  sick  and  give  sight 
to  the  blind  kin  make  hit  tew  talk,  ef  He  will. 
He  hes  called  me,  and  I  kin  speak  ef  the  Spirit  fills 
me.  A  man  must  offer  hisself  a  living  sacrifice  thet 


"THE  PREACHIN'  "  279 

God  may  do  what  He  wills  with  him.  He  kin  make 
uv  him  an  open  door,  even  as  He  said  consarnin' 
Hisself,  'I  am  the  door;  ef  any  man  go  m  by  me  he 
shall  be  saved.'  By  bein'  borned  again  by  water  and 
the  Spirit,  this  boy  hes  been  saved  and  hes  entered 
in  at  that  door.  You-all  kin  be  saved  in  no  other 
way  whatever,  my  little  congregation." 

Nods  of  agreement  and  murmured,  "Thet  air  a 
fact,"  came  from  different  parts  of  the  room. 

"Thet  air  the  text  I  wishes  tew  study  in  tew — 
thet  and  the  words  thet  comes  after  hit,  'I  am  the 
Good  Shepherd;  the  Good  Shepherd  layeth  daown 
his  life  for  the  sheep.  He  thet  is  a  hirelin'  and  not  a 
shepherd,  whose  own  the  sheep  air  not,  beholdeth 
the  wolf  comin'  and  leaveth  the  sheep  and  fleeth'!" 

By  this  time  the  preacher's  speech  had  become 
much  stronger,  more  comprehensible,  and  Donald, 
who  had  been  listening  with  marked  interest  said, 
beneath  his  breath,  "How  on  earth  can  he  get  quo- 
tations like  that  so  straight  if  he  can  read  hardly  at 
all?" 

"Hush,  hush.  Preachers  of  his  kind  know  almost 
all  of  the  Bible  by  heart,  simply  from  hearing  it 
passed  down  by  word  of  mouth.  It's  astonishing, 
I  know,  but  it's  a  fact.  Donald,  Philip,  listen  to 
him,  now!  How  do  you  expalin  that,  if  he  isn't  actu- 
ally inspired?" 

For,  even  while  they  had  been  whispering  together, 
"Stammerin"'  Sammy  had  bent  over,  cupping  both 
ears  with  his  grimy  hands,  and — after  standing  thus 


380 SMILING  PASS 

for  a  moment  as  though  he  were  listening  to  some 
voice  inaudible  to  them — began  to  speak  with  per- 
fect fluency  and  in  a  tone  that  rang  out  like  a  bugle. 
He,  too,  was  exhorting.  Each  sentence  was  com- 
menced with  an  "Oh,"  high  and  loud,  intoned  without 
inflection  and  it  ended  invariably  in  a  descending 
"Aaaaah!"  like  a  long  drawn  out  shudder. 

"Psychopathic,  of  course.  The  result  of  intense 
nervous  excitement.  You  must  have  seen  somewhat 
similiar  manifestations  of  it  plenty  of  times."  Her 
brother  answered  as  a  physician,  yet  he  could  not 
wholly  conceal  his  own  rather  startled  interest  which 
forced  him  to  add,  "It  is  a  bit  uncanny,  though. 
I  never  heard  him  utter  two  consecutive  words 
clearly  before." 

"Perhaps  that  is  the  explanation,  I  don't  know," 
said  Rose.  "But  you  can't  blame  these  people  for 
accepting  it  as  evidence  of  real  inspiration,  can  you?" 

"No." 

Rose  was  still  holding  her  husband's  left  hand 
and  Camille  had  unconsciously  grasped  his  right. 
The  younger  girl's  eyes  were  wide  and  somewhat 
frightened.  To  her  mind,  with  the  training  of  her 
childhood  subconsciously  swaying  it,  a  miracle  had 
there  been  performed.  And  the  man's  manner  and 
speech  held  her  both  spellbound  and  a  little  terrified, 
for  he  was  now  pacing  back  and  forth  and  swaying 
up  and  down  as  he  walked,  as  well  as  continually 
pulling  his  ears  forward  with  his  flat  palms.  His 
eyes  were  fixed  and  burning  feverishly.  And  he  had 


"THE  PREACHIN'  "  281 

begun  to  spit  continually  and  with  little  regard  to 
direction. 

Some  of  his  listeners  sat  hunched  over  with  their 
heads  in  their  hands;  others  had  already  commenced 
to  display  symptoms  of  religious  fervor  not  unlike 
his  own. 

"OH,  I  stand  between  a  woe  and  a  curse,  aaaah! 
OH,  woe  if  I  preach  not  the  truth  untew  you,  aaah! 
OH,  a  curse  ef  I  preach  other  than  thet  which  hes 
been  preached  and  'stablished,  aaah!  OH,  thar  is 
but  one  door  and  ef  any  tries  tew  enter  by  any  other 
way  he  is  a  thief  and  a  robber,  aaah!" 

For  the  greater  part  of  an  hour  he  continued  thus 
to  exhort  the  true  believers  and  condemn  all  who 
would  offer  a  different  faith,  quoting  from  both  the 
Old  and  New  Testaments  with  freedom  and  accuracy, 
if  not  always  with  appropriateness.  To  him — if  he 
indeed  thought  at  all — a  text  was  a  text,  regardless 
of  its  context.  With  fearsome  vividness  he  described 
the  lake  of  fire  and  brimstone,  whose  flames  awaited 
those  not  saved  through  re-birth  by  water  and  the 
Spirit  and  all  those  hireling  shepherds  who  preached 
the  word  for  pay.  "OH,  freely  hev  we  received, 
freely  do  we  give,  aaaah !  OH,  we  take  no  collections, 
we  do  not  speculate  upon  God,  aaah!"  he  exclaimed 
vehemently.  Many  a  call  of  approval  greeted  his 
almost  ceaseless  flow  of  words. 

He  mentioned  no  names;  it  was  not  necessary, 
for  at  each  fresh  denunciation,  each  verbal  flaying 
of  the  false  shepherds  whose  own  the  sheep  were  not, 


282 SMILING  PASS 

but  who  came  to  teach  them  strange  doctrines,  he 
glared  anew  at  the  little  group  in  the  corner.  Their 
faces  became  whiter  and  their  expressions  more  set, 
but  Rose's  plea  kept  them  still,  even  when  muttered 
sentences  and  dark  glances  came  to  their  ears  and  eyes 
from  different  parts  of  the  room.  The  school  children 
twisted  uneasily  in  their  seats  and  kept  looking 
around  at  their  teachers  with  distressed  question- 
ings in  their  faces.  As  hard  as  it  was  for  her  to  do 
it,  Rose  ever  had  an  encouraging  smile  in  answer. 

"He  is  sincere,  Donald,  according  to  his  lights," 
she  murmured.  "We  must  grin  and  bear  it.  By  our 
works  they  shall  know  us  ...  some  day." 

It  seemed  to  her  as  though  he  would  never,  never 
finish.  Yet  the  end  came  at  length  and  suddenly. 
"  OH,  my  maounting  people,  enter  ye  in  by  the  narrer 
gate,  aaah!  OH,  wide  is  the  gate  and  broad  is  the 
way  that  leadeth  tew  destruction,  aaah!  OH,  and 
many  thar  be  thet  enter  in  tharby,  aaah!  OH,  but 
narrer  is  the  gate  and  straight  is  the  way  thet  lead- 
eth untew  life." 

He  stopped,  coughing  and  expectorating  violently, 
and  finished  in  his  ordinary  voice,  "And  few  air 
they  thet  find  hit.  Haint  I  a-speakin'  the  truth, 
brethren?  "  Preacher  Sammy's  jaws  clicked  together 
convulsively,  the  muscles  of  his  skinny  throat  worked 
and  he  sat  down,  wiping  his  perspiring  face  and 
stammering  out  some  remark  to  his  nearest  neigh- 
bor. 

Rose  was  instantly  on  her  feet.    It  was  over  and 


"THE  PREACHIN'  "  283 

it  might  have  been  infinitely  worse.  With  a  nod  of 
agreement,  and  with  a  fixed  smile  upon  her  lips  she 
moved  to  Preacher  Paul's  side  and  softly  begged 
him  to  sing  again.  He  complied  at  once,  starting 
another  appealing  mountain  hymn  which  commenced, 
"I'm  alone  in  this  world,  I  am  weary  of  life,  in  this 
unfriendly  world  I'm  alone." 

As  the  woman  joined  her  clear,  sweet  voice  to  his 
untuneful  one  on  the  second  line,  it  seemed  to  her 
that  he  had  chosen  it  with  particular  appropriate- 
ness. Truly  her  present  world  seemed  unfriendly 
enough  and  she  was  almost  alone  in  it.  But  not  quite. 
A  few  staunch  friends,  and  Donald — her  rock  of 
Gibraltar — were  in  yonder  corner,  and  the  children 
loved  her,  if  many  of  their  parents  did  not.  "I'm 
alone  in  this  world,  I  am  wearied  of  life.  Take  me 
home,  kind  Savior,  take  me  home." 

The  second  stanza  was  begun  Und  with  it  came  an 
interrupting  commotion.  Aunt  Phronie  had  climbed 
onto  the  seat  of  her  chair  and  now — with  her  corded 
arms  stretched  straight  above  her  head — she  was 
crying  loudly,  "Cum  fill  me!  Cum  fill  me!  Cum 
fill  me!" 

Philip  and  John  both  started  from  their  places 
as  she  swayed  perilously,  and  seemed  on  the  point 
of  having  a  convulsion,  but  Rose  waved  them  back. 
The  rest  continued  to  sing,  paying  no  attention  to 
the  old  woman's  raving,  although  two  of  her  com- 
peers moved  quietly  to  her  side  and  lent  their  steady- 
ing support  as  she  began  to  jump  frantically  up  and 


284  SMILING  PASS 

down,  clapping  her  hands  together  and  shouting, 
"I  air  filled  with  the  Holy  Spirit.  Oh,  brothers  and 
sisters  I  air  filled.  Cum,  take  my  hand — the  stran- 
gers, too." 

Before  the  steadying  arms  could  restrain  her, 
she  had  started  forward,  striding  from  chair  seat 
to  chair  seat,  and  grasping  the  outstretched  hands 
of  all  who  were  within  reach.  The  three  preachers 
were  also  shaking  hands  with  all  those  in  their  vicin- 
ity and  Paul,  singing  lustily  as  he  walked,  ap- 
proached Donald  and  the  rest,  to  give  them  the 
brotherly  greeting. 

Rose  smiled  happily.  It  was  almost  over  and  all 
had  gone  at  least  reasonably  well. 


CHAPTER  III 
DONALD'S  INSPIRATION  AND  WHAT  CAME  OF  IT 

"AND  now  if  every  mind  is  clear  and  satisfied 
.  .  ."  Preacher  Paul  was  beginning  the  bene- 
diction and  Rose  sighed  with  relief.  All  was  welL 

"...  And  may  the  blessing  of  God  go  with 
each  and  every  one  of  you  is  my  prayer,  Amen." 
he  concluded. 

There  was  a  scraping  of  chairs  and  shuffling  of 
feet  as  the  congregation  prepared  to  depart,  sud- 
denly interrupted  by  the  sound  of  Donald's  cane 
tapping  on  the  floor  for  attention.  Rose  turned  in 
surprise,  which  quickly  changed  into  troubled  anti- 
cipation as  she  heard  her  usually  taciturn  husband 
begin  to  speak.  What  could  it  mean? 

"One  moment,  friends,  if  you  please,"  he  was 
saying.  "I  want  to  thank  you  all  for  coming  here  to 
this  service — may  we  have  many  like  it." 

"Oh,  the  old  hypocrite!"  whispered  Philip  in 
Margaret's  ear. 

But  there  was  an  eager  light  in  Donald's  face 
which  plainly  showed  that  he  was  not  speaking 
formal  platitudes,  as  he  went  on. 

"It  is  good  for  all  of  us  to  get  together  like  this, 
for  it  helps  our  mutual  understanding.  We  want 
285 


286 SMILING  PASS 

you  to  come  during  the  week,  too,  and  learn  that 
we  are  with  you  in  spirit  all  the  time.  And  we  want 
to  feel  that  you  are  with  us,  as  well,  because — as 
most  of  you  must  realize,  now — the  work  here  is 
wholly  for  you.  It's  more  than  that;  it's  yours.  My 
wife  has  not  raised  this  little  school  and  hospital 
in  Smiling  Pass  for  our  sakes,  but  for  yours — she 
was  bred  among  you  in  these  mountains  and  is  one 
of  you  at  heart.  I  guess  you  know  it.  Besides,  your 
own  folks — Judd,  Virgil  and  others — are  already 
almost  running  it;  Miss  Treville  and  the  rest  of  us 
are  just  doing  our  bit  to  help  in  training  your  own 
boys  and  girls  so  that  they  can  carry  it  on  alone, 
some  day.  But  it's  really  yours  now;  and  some  of 
your  children  are  now  reaping  the  benefits.  Isn't 
it  so?" 

He  paused  and  waited  eagerly  for  a  response.  It 
came  in  the  form  of  a  few  mumbled,  "I  reckon  hit 
air,"  from  one  or  two  quarters. 

"Of  course  it  is!  We  love  them  and  are  proud  of 
them  all.  The  way  most  of  them  take  hold  of  this 
new  work  shows  what  mountain  people  can  do,  if 
they're  given  a  chance.  Everyone,  no  matter  where 
he  lives,  wants  at  heart  to  better  his  condition,  and 
of  course  you  do.  Smiling  Pass  is  here  to  help  you 
do  it — and  it  is  yours.  But  the  idea  has  just  come 
to  me  that  you  might  feel  that  fact  more  strongly 
if  each  and  every  one  of  you  had  a  real  share  in  it — 
if  you  should  actually  become  joint  owners  of  it. 

"We're  getting  generous  help  from  thousands  of 


DONALD'S  INSPIRATION        287 

friends  outside  the  mountains  all  over  the  rest  of 
the  United  States,  and  we  must  continue  to  seek 
it,  of  course.  But  won't  you  help,  too?" 

Rose  gave  a  little  gasp  and  started  towards  him, 
a  startled  expression  on  her  face  and  her  hand  lifted 
in  mute  warning.  But  she  was  too  late. 

The  man  whose  utterances  were  normally  so 
brief  had  become  fired  with  an  idea  which,  he  felt, 
might  solve  their  greatest  difficulty — the  continued 
suspicion  and  masked  hostility  with  which  they 
were  still  regarded  by  many  with  whom  they  had 
not  yet  established  real  contact.  It  seemed  to  him 
that  the  opportunity  had  come  to  establish  a  per- 
sonal touch  with  this  people  whom  Smiles  loved, 
and  his  plain,  strong  face  was  alight  with  the  thought 
of  helping  in  a  more  intimate  manner  than  he  had 
yet  been  able  to  do.  In  his  enthusiasm  for  the  Cause 
he  failed  to  see  and  heed  her  gesture. 

"For  your  work,  then — which  is  really  a  sacred 
work,  a  service  for  God — cannot  we,  here  and  now, 
take  up  a  collection  in  which  everyone  shall  join, 
giving  much  or  little  according  to  his  means?  Won't 
you  do  it?" 

Donald  stopped,  flushed  with  sudden  embarrass- 
ment, and,  for  the  first  time,  realized  that  something; 
was  wrong.  His  wife's  white  face  and  frightened  ex- 
pression bespoke  the  fact,  as  did  the  deep  «ience  in 
the  room — a  silence  pregnant  with  something  which 
he  could  not  understand.  It  was  the  first  service 
he  had  attended;  he  knew  next  to  nothing  about  the 
tenets  of  their  faith. 


288  SMILING  PASS 

"He  wants  fer  tew  take  up  a  collection\  Hit's  fer 
thet  they  asked  we-all  up  hyar.  I  knowed  thar  was 
somethin'  like  thet,  whatever." 

Someone  only  a  little  distance  from  him  was  ad- 
dressing another  and  making  no  effort  to  lower  his 
voice  or  dissemble  the  scorn  and  anger  in  it.  With 
some  grimly  silent,  others  hostilely  voluble,  the 
gathering  surged  out  of  the  hall.  Even  Rose  could 
not  for  the  moment  find  words  with  which  to  ad- 
dress them  in  explanation,  as  they  passed  her  by  with 
sullen  looks  and  averted  faces.  There  was  fear  in  her 
heart.  For  less,  she  knew,  religious  meetings  in  those 
mountains  had  broken  up  in  riots:  rifles  had  been 
fired,  men  had  been  killed!  What  would  the  next 
moment  bring  forth? 

The  voices  outside  began  to  recede,  mingled  with 
the  clatter  of  horses'  hoofs.  Rose  drew  a  freer  breath 
and  then  turned  to  the  still  silent  group  in  the  corner. 
Her  first  words  were  almost  a  wail. 

"Oh,  Donald!  Why  did  you  say  that?  I  know,  of 
course.  You  thought  that  you  were  doing  something 
helpful,  and  it  was  dear  of  you,  but  .  .  .  ." 

"But  I've  apparently  put  my  foot  in  it — good 
and  plenty.  Hanged  if  I  understand  why,  though." 
Bewilderment  and  anger  were  alike  distinguishable 
in  her  husband's  words. 

"Put  your  foot  in  hit  is  right,"  answered  Judd. 

"No  one's  blaming  you,  Donald,"  Virgil  added, 
hastily.  "But  .  .  .  .well,  the  word  'collection' 
at  a  service  here  is  like  a  flock  of  red  rags  to  a  yardful 


DONALD'S  INSPIRATION        289 

of  bulls.  Didn't  you  get  what  'Stammerin' '  Sammy 
said?" 

"Yes,  Donald.  He  practically  accused  us  of  being 
'hireling  shepherds'  as  it  was,  you  know.  They 
don't  accept  a  penny  for  their  ministry — I  really 
think  that  we  should  honor  them  for  that — and 
..."  Rose  began,  only  to  be  interrupted  by 
Margaret's  heated  exclamation,  "But  the  Bible  says 
that  a  laborer  is  worthy  of  his  hire.  Ministers  ..." 

"Oh,  don't  let's  discuss  ethics  now."  Smiles  spoke 
sharply,  for  her.  "The  point  is  that  the  idea  is  ab- 
horrent to  them." 

"But  I  wasn't  asking  for  contributions  to  pay 
their  d —  their  preachers,"  Donald  retorted.  "I 
should  think  that  any  fool  would  have  understood 
that  my  suggestion  hadn't  anything  whatever  to  do 
with  religion." 

"Of  course  it  hadn't,  but  you  know  how  super- 
sensitive,  how  quick  to  cast  suspicion  on  outsiders, 
they  are,  and  the  word  'collection'  has  only  one 
significance  in  their  minds,  you  see.  I  suppose  that 
they  have  got  the  idea  that  we  are  really  nothing 
but  missionaries,  under  a  new  name.  That  is  almost 
the  only  kind  of  people  who  have  ever  come  in  here 
from  the  outside  world,  trying  to  help  them,  and  the 
trouble  is  that  the  missionaries  have  almost  universally 
followed  just  the  wrong  method.  They've  tried  to 
convert  them,  against  their  wills,  and  practically 
demanded  money  from  them  for  doing  it.  Oh,  the 
different  Churches,  with  the  best  intentions  in  the 


290 SMILING  PASS 

world,  have  blundered  woefully,  time  and  again, 
simply  because  they  have  acted  with  blind  impetu- 
osity and  made  no  real  effort  to  understand  and 
appreciate  the  mountaineers'  peculiar  viewpoint. 
And  now  we  are  suffering  for  their  mistakes." 

"That's  absurd.  We're  not  missionaries,  and  what 
are  we  getting  out  of  it,  except  hard  work,  I  should 
like  to  know?  We're  giving,  giving,  giving — I  know 
that  you're  pretty  nearly  killing  yourself — and  ask- 
ing nothing  for  ourselves,"  said  Donald,  hotly. 

"Of  course.    But  they  can't,  or  won't  see  it — yet. 
I  haven't  a  doubt  but  that  many  of  them  are  con- 
vinced that  we  are  pocketing  the  bigger  part  of  all 
the  money  that  is  contributed  by  outsiders.     You 
know  that  there  are  others  who  should  know  better, 
but  who  have  practically  accused  us  of  doing  that. 
And  as  a  man  thinks  so  is  he — and  so  does  he.    Don, 
I  we  mustn't  blame  them  for  it.  They  don't  grasp  new 
'ideas,  particularly  altruistic  ideas,   quickly.      How 
could  they,  living  here  shut  in  physically  and  mentally,  ! 
,  and  trained  as  they  have  been  for  generations?    We 
,  started  under  a  cloud,  raised  by  others,  whose  inten-  j 
i  tions  were  wonderful,  but  whose  methods  were  worse 
than  useless,   and  now  .    .    .    ." 

"Now  we  had  better  strengthen  our  first  line  of 
defenses  again,"  remarked  Virgil,  practically.  "I'll 
put  'Bad  Bill'  back  on  guard,  tonight." 

"Good  heavens,  is  it  as  bad  as  that?"    demanded  ! 
Donald. 

"Hit  certainly  is — any  thing's  likely  to  happen," 
Judd  answered,  pessimistically. 


DONALD'S  INSPIRATION        291 

"And  probably  nothing  will  happen,"  Rose  re- 
torted. "However,  I  believe  in  safety  first,  and 
Billy  .  .  .  ." 

"Why  send  for  him?  I'm  game  to  stand  watch 
tonight.  It  would  be  a  bit  of  a  lark." 

Philip  laughed  boyishly  as  he  spoke,  but  both 
Margaret  and  Camille  broke  in  with  distressed 
opposition  to  his  plan,  whereupon  John  said,  "Isn't 
it  nice  to  be  so  popular!  No,  Phil,  you're  out. 
The  ladies  couldn't  spare  you,  and  we  can't  spare 
any  pigs  or  the  cows — one  of  which  you  would  proba- 
bly shoot  if  they  took  to  rambling  about  in  the  dark. 
I'll  do  it;  I  won't  be  missed  if  one  of  our  delightful 
neighbors  should  elect  to  take  a  pot  shot  at  me." 

"You  should,  as  punishment  for  that  mean  remark, 
John  Hunter,"  answered  Rose.  "Just  the  same,  I 
shan't  permit  it.  You're  too  valuable  and  we  can't 
afford  to  risk  our  assets  needlessly." 

"Thanks." 

An  unusually  good  dinner  whose  piece  de  resist- 
ance was  chickens — shot,  after  the  custom  of  the 
country,  by  Judd  and  Malvary,  and  deliciously 
fried  by  the  girls  in  the  Domestic  Science  course 
under  the  capable  direction  of  Mrs.  Gayheart — lent 
a  brighter  aspect  to  the  day.  And  almost  everybody 
forgot  the  cloud  which  had  swiftly  gathered  at  noon- 
tide in  the  bright  sunshine  of  victory,  when  the  Smiling 
Pass  nine  met  and  soundly  trounced  the  rest  of 
Beaten  Creek  in  the  afternoon,  despite  the  fact  that 


292 SMILING  PASS 

its  rivals  were  older  and  bigger.  Virgil  had  learned 
baseball  in  the  army,  and,  in  teaching  it  to  his  char- 
ges, had  instilled  a  spirit  of  team  play  which  was 
not  to  be  vanquished. 

Philip — "Uncle  Phil"  he  had  already  become  to 
all  the  younger  ones,  following  Billy  Boy's  leader- 
ship in  applying  the  title — acted  as  umpire,  and  there 
was  a  sufficiently  large  gathering  of  spectators  to 
indicate  that  most  of  the  immediate  neighbors,  at 
least,  bore  no  grudge  as  a  result  of  Donald's  ill  ad- 
vised suggestion.  Don  himself  was  not  among  them, 
however,  for  a  nervous  reaction  had  produced  a 
sharp  return  of  his  trouble,  already  aggravated  by 
the  rainy  season,  and  his  pillowed  chair  claimed 
him  again.  Rose,  too,  stayed  but  a  little  while,  de- 
parting home  during  the  second  inning  with  Smiles, 
Junior,  who  seemed  feverish  and  surprisingly  fretful 
for  her  sunny  little  self.  With  them  went  John,  car- 
rying the  latter  on  his  broad  shoulder,  and  Camille, 
who  still  considered  the  baby  her  special  charge. 

With  the  ringing  of  the  first  bell  for  supper  the 
game  ended,  and  Philip  joined  Margaret  upon  one 
of  the  rude  benches  for  spectators,  set  beneath  a 
magnolia  bush  beside  the  diamond,  which  slanted 
down  from  the  mountainfoot,  on  whose  ninety  de- 
gree slope  the  right  fielder  stood,  to  the  creek,  whose 
waters  captured  most  of  the  flies  knocked  to  deep 
left. 

"So  this  is  Easter!"  he  exclaimed,  laughing  and 
fanning  his  flushed  face  with  his  cap.  "Well,  I  feel 


DONALD'S  INSPIRATION        293 

as  though  I  had  performed  more  of  a  religious 
act  in  refereeing  that  fight  than  I  did  in  attending 
service  this  morning.  I  hadn't  thought  of  it  before, 
but  the  particular  day  in  the  Church  calendar  wasn't 
so  much  as  alluded  to  then,  was  it?" 

"No,"  smiled  the  girl,  motioning  him  to  a  seat  by 
her  side.  "Perhaps  they  didn't  even  know  it,  al- 
though, on  Christmas,  Preacher  Paul — he  tries  to 
come  up  almost  every  Sunday  and  assist  us  with  our 
little  Bible  class— talked  wholly  about  the  birth  of 
John.  I  really  believe  that  he  is  a  greater  figure  in 
their  faith  than  Christ  Himself,  and  of  course  they 
take  the  title  literally  and  insist  that  John  was  a 
member  of  the  Baptist  church,  for  wasn't  he  'John 
the  Baptist?'  Their  sincerity  is  touching — and  a 
little  pathetic,  isn't  it?" 

"Yes.  But  the  idea  of  their  taking  umbrage  at 
Don's  suggestion,  the  way  they  did — unless  it  was 
because  it  'touched'  their  pocket-books." 

"Oh,  it  wasn't  that  in  the  least;  Rose's  explana- 
tion was  right.  They  have  only  a  little  money,  of 
course,  but  they  are  as  generous  with  it  as  with 
everything  else  they  own.  'All  for  one  and  one  for 
all'  is  the  mountain,  as  well  as  the  Musketeers' 
motto.  If  anyone  here  wants  anything,  about  all  he 
has  to  do  is  to  ask  for,  or  merely  take  it." 

"  Steal  it,  you  mean?  " 

"No,  no.  Once  we  did  lose  a  lot  of  piping  for  the 
new  well;  Judd  had  left  it  lying  out  for  days,  as 
usual,  and  probably  someone  needed  it  for  the  worm 


294  SMILING  PASS 

in  a  moonshine  still — but  they  almost  never  steal 
anything,  unless  it  is  locked  up;  a  lock  seems  to  hold 
a  visible  challenge.  Of  course  they  may  borrow  any- 
thing they  see  and  happen  to  need,  without  asking 
for  it  .  .  ." 

"And  forget  to  return  it,"  added  Philip,  his  eyes 
twinkling. 

"Exactly."  Margaret  was  perfectly  serious  until 
.she  saw  the  man's  amused  smile.  Then  they  both 
laughed,  and  he  exclaimed,  "I  never  in  my  life  knew 
a  woman  to  change  as  completely  as  you  have  since 
you  came  down  here,  Peggy." 

She  colored  swiftly  and  lowered  her  eyes. 

"I  haven't  had  the  courage  to  compliment  you 
upon  it  before,  but  I  do  now.  You've  certainly 
done  wonders  for  those  kids  ..." 

"Oh,  no.  But  they  have  done  wonders  for  me, 
Philip,"  she  interrupted.  "They've  taught  me  more 
than  I  can  ever  hope  to  teach  them  in  repayment." 

"What?  If  you  can  put  it  in  words,"  he  asked 
bluntly. 

"I  don't  guess  that  I  can — oh,  yes,  I  say  'guess' 
now;  we  all  do.  But  perhaps  it's  the  meaning  of  life, 
and  how  much  more  worthwhile  the  real  things  are 
than  the  superfluities,  even  when  they  are  simple 
and  most  primitive.  I've  learned  to  love  the  moun- 
taineers, young  and  old,  just  as  Smiles  loves  them, 
Phil.  But  oh,  what  a  silly,  conceited  little  fool  I  was 
two  years  ago!  I  don't  blame  you  for  having  said 
what  you  did  about  me  to  Rose  and  Donald." 


DONALD'S  INSPIRATION        295 

It  was  the  man's  turn  to  flush.  "I  was  a  cad  to  do 
it  ....  and  it  was  a  bit  unkind  of  them  to  tell 
you,  as  well." 

"But  they  didn't.  I  ...  I  just  guessed  it.  The 
coat  fitted,  so  I  put  it  on.  Well,  let's  forget  the  past. 
It  is  ended  and  I  don't  want  to  talk  about  it." 

"Right.  What  shall  we  discuss— the  future?  Are 
we  going  to  be  raided  again  tonight,  the  way  we 
were  the  first  time  I  was  here?" 

"Oh,  I  hope  not.  Everything  has  been  going  so 
well  ever  since  Christmas.  How  I  wish  that  you 
might  have  been  here  then  and  seen  our  won- 
derful tree,  Phil;  the  first  that  the  people  here  had 
ever  beheld  in  their  lives.  We  had  it  in  the  dining- 
room  which  the  little  boys  had  decorated  beautifully 
with  evergreens  and  .  .  .  and  mistletoe  .  .  ." 

Margaret's  hesitation  was  almost  imperceptible, 
but  the  man  noted  it  and  felt  a  hot  twinge  of 
jealousy,  which  he  characterized  to  himself  as  ut- 
terly absurd.  Supposing  someone — Virgil  perhaps — 
had  kissed  her,  what  was  it  to  him? 

Evening  shadows  had  begun  to  creep  across  the 
valley,  but  the  sunset  glow  still  lingered  in  the  west- 
ern sky  and  tinted  Margaret's  face  with  its  warm 
light.  He  glanced  quickly  at  her,  and  suddenly 
realized  how  infinitely  more  lovely  she  was  than 
she  had  been  two  years  ago,  now  that  her  glorious 
hair  was  simply  dressed  in  a  manner  which  disclosed 
instead  of  concealing  her  broad,  smooth  forehead 
and  shapely  ears,  and  her  face  was  free  of  any  arti- 


296  SMILING  PASS 

ficial  beautifying  and  her  blue  eyes  filled  with  the 
lights  and  shadows  of  real  purposefulness.  Perhaps 
it  was  merely  the  call  of  spring  and  the  calm  even- 
tide, but  he  suddenly  found  that  his  mind  was  har- 
1  boring  the  equally  absurd  thought  that  he,  too, 
wanted  to  kiss  her! 

Yet,  all  the  while  that  these  fleeting  ideas  were 
passing  through  his  brain,  he  was  listening  to  her 
continued  description,  for  she  had  hurried  on,  "... 
and  red  and  green  crinkly  paper  festoons  which  I 
— which  we  had  sent  to  Boston  for.  The  tree  was  a 
giant,  Phil;  the  biggest  and  smelliest  you  ever  knew 
and  all  a-shimmer  with  make-believe  silver  snow 
and  .  .  .  oh,  everything  that  we  have  at  home, 
besides  presents  for  everyone. 

"And  everyone  came,  just  as  they  did  this  morn- 
ing, grown-ups  and  little  ones;  some  of  them  smiling 
and  eager,  and  some  merely  listlessly  curious — at' 
first.  A  lot  of  the  men  were  still  half-drunk  from 
the  night  before's  celebration,  and  one  allowed  that 
'ef  he  tuk  a  notion  he  could  go  in  thar  and  smash 
thet  thar  big  Christmas  tree  UP.'  But  he  didn't! 
Bill  Cress  was  on  deck  and  he  simply  caught  him 
by  the  arm — you  can  guess  how — and  drawled, 
'Maybe  thet  is  so,  Bud.  But  hit  jest  happens  thet 
thet  thar  Christmas  tree  haint  a-going  tew  be  smashed 
up.  I  reckon  thet  me  and  you  hed  better  be  hevin' 
a  stroll.' 

"Well,  they  strolled,  and  when  they  strolled  back, 
Bud  remarked  positively,  'Hit's  a  sight  tew  find 


DONALD'S  INSPIRATION        297 

aout  haow  mean  a  decent  sort  uv  feller  like  me  kin 
be  when  he's  full  uv  licker.  All  I  hev  tew  say  is  this 
• — ef  airy  one  uv  you  onery  cusses  hez  made  any 
plans  agin  thet  thar  Christmas  tree,  you-all  hev 
we  to  reckon  with.  Let's  go  in'.  " 

Philip  laughed  heartily,  alike  at  the  story  and  her 
mimicry,  for  Margaret  was  a  natural  actress,  and 
she  continued,  "After  that  declaration  everything 
went  wonderfully  and  it  has  ever  since.  But  now 

.  .  .  oh,  I  don't  know.  Of  course  we  have  made 
open  enemies.  We  have  had  to  send  a  few  boys  away 
for  ...  for  different  reasons — one  or  two  things 
which  have  happened  have  hurt  us,  and  then  there 
still  remains  a  little  lawless  element  which  is  always 
ready  and  eager  to  take  a  hand  in  any  mischief. 
Let's  hope  that  nothing  will  happen,  and  if  any- 
thing should,  please  promise  not  to  mix  up  in  it,  Phil." 

He  laughed  again.  "Good  gracious,  don't  you 
want  me  to  have  any  fun?" 

"Please,  Philip,"  she  begged  earnestly,  laying  her 
hand  appealingly  upon  his  arm. 

The  touch  delighted  him,  but  he  replied,  "No, 
I  won't  promise.  Come,  Peggy,  it  must  be  almost 
supper  time  and  I  want  to  see  if  Junior  has  anything 
more  than  a  tummy-ache  from  eating  too  much. 
Easter  chicken." 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT 

THE  better  freedom  under  the  law,  rather  than 
freedom  from  law,  was  the  rule  at  Smiling  Pass. 
Many  regulations  there  had  to  be,  and  these  strictly 
lived  up  to,  but  Sunday  was  half  Holy  day  and  half 
holiday.  Many  of  the  pupils  went  home  to  spend 
it  with  then*  families,  and  during  the  evening  a  marked 
informality  marked  the  activities  of  those  who  re- 
mained, so  long  as  no  cardinal  rules  were  broken. 
The  supper  was  a  buffet  affair  and  attendance  there- 
at irregular. 

On  this  Easter  evening  the  usual  procedure  suf- 
fered a  still  further  interruption.  Smiles,  junior — 
their  universally  adored  baby — was  really  ill,  for 
the  first  tune  in  her  life,  and  the  news  cast  a  spell  of 
gloom  over  young  and  old  alike.  Billy  Boy  could 
scarcely  be  driven  away  from  the  House  of  Happi- 
ness, and  of  course  Camille,  Margaret  and  Philip  re- 
mained with  the  anxious  mother  and  father.  Donald's 
own  recurrent  agony  robbed  him  of  his  professional 
calmness,  and  he  was  only  too  glad  to  let  Philip  take 
full  charge.  Both  he  and  Rose  concurred  in  the 
other's  immediate  diagnosis  that  the  baby  was 
suffering  from  a  severe,  but  probably  temporary, 
298 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  299 

attack  of  ptomaine  poisoning;  but  it  was  their  baby 
who  was  ill  and,  although  they  might  assent  men- 
tally, their  hearts  were  filled  with  parental  qualms. 

With  the  sounding  of  the  evening  bell,  the  chil- 
dren, including  the  openly  rebellious  Billy,  were 
sent  to  their  rooms,  but  Camille  lingered,  although 
it  was  her  custom  to  go  to  the  girls'  quarters  and 
see  that  all  "her  children"  were  safely  in  and  study- 
ing. To-night,  however,  she  could  not,  even  for  a 
moment,  tear  herself  from  the  little  one  who  had 
been  almost  as  much  her's  as  its  mother's  from  the 
moment  of  its  birth,  and  who  now  tossed,  feverish 
and  fretful,  in  the  little  crib,  with  deep  red  spots 
on  both  flushed  cheeks,  and  tousled  ringlets  of 
spun  gold  clinging  to  its  damp  little  forehead. 

A  constrained  silence  bound  the  little  group  in 
the  darkened  room,  for,  in  addition  to  the  present 
anxiety,  there  lay  in  the  back  of  each  one's  mind 
uncertain  and  painful  anticipations.  What  had  the 
darkness  in  store  for  them  from  that  still  hostile, 
tradition-bound  few  who  seldom  let  slip  an  oppor- 
tunity to  molest  them,  and  for  whom  a  rare  excuse 
for  mischief-making  had  most  unfortunately  been 
provided?  Even  then  Virgil  was  placing  the  devoted 
Bill  Cress  in  the  shadows  of  the  sawmill's  shelter 
roof,  with  rifle  close  beside  him,  and  they  knew  that 
it  was  no  mere  formal  precaution. 

With  his  last  duty  for  the  night  done,  Virgil  quietly 
joined  the  others  in  the  office  living-room,  whither 
Junior's  crib  had  been  moved,  and  his  coming  some- 


300  SMILING  PASS 

how  affected  them  adversely,  for  he  was  plainly 
nervous.  He  worshiped  the  baby,  as  she  did  him, 
and  any  set-back  to  the  Cause  in  which  his  life  was 
bound  up  was  worse  than  a  blow  to  him. 
Moreover,  he  had  not  been  quite  .  his  usual 
buoyant  self  from  the  evening  of  Philip's  arrival, 
although  to  the  new-comer  he  was  as  friendly 
as  ever.  A  strange  moodiness  seemed  to  have  taken 
possession  of  him,  dating  from  the  moment  that 
the  delighted  Camille  had  impulsively,  yet  with 
shyness,  run  into  "Uncle  Philip's"  outstretched 
arms,  and  he  had  on  more  than  one  occasion  been 
heard  to  speak  sharply  to  some  of  the  boys  and 
even  to  his  beloved  sister,  Omie,  who  had  in  turn 
been  more  than  ordinarily  restive.  Camille  he  had 
scarcely  addressed  at  all,  and  she  was  both  hurt  and 
disturbed  by  his  behavior,  for  no  cloud  had  dimmed 
or  chilled  the  warmth  of  their  friendship  in  all  the 
twenty  months  which  had  passed  since  that  after- 
noon on  the  mountaintop. 

The  bedtime  hour  of  nine  came  at  last  and  Rose 
insisted  that  the  girl  go  to  her  room.  She  rebelled, 
almost  tearfully,  until  Virgil — touched  by  the  sight 
of  her  obvious  unhappiness,  and  repentant — said, 
"  Come,  sister.  We  are  really  only  in  the  way.  Junie 
is  going  to  be  all  right  by  morning,  and  bed  is  the 
place  for  both  of  us.  I'll  go  as  far  as  the  dormitory 
with  you." 

They  had  at  length  departed  together,  but  not 
until  Rose  had  promised  to  send  for  the  girl  if  she 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  301 

should  be  needed.  A  moment  later  she  herself  went 
out  to  the  driven  well  to  procure  a  fresh  supply  of 
cold  water  with  which  to  bathe  the  baby's  burning 
forehead — refusing  Philip's  offer  to  get  it  for  her,  on 
the  ground  that  she  could  find  it  more  easily  in  the 
dark  than  could  he. 

As  she  stepped  into  the  blackness  of  the  night, 
she  almost  ran  against  John,  who  was  on  the  veranda 
finishing  his  evening  pipeful  of  tobacco.  When  she 
told  him  of  her  purpose,  he  took  the  pitcher  from  her 
and  would  have  gone  alone  to  the  pump  if  she  had 
not  fallen  in  step  with  him,  laying  her  hand  upon 
his  arm  with  a  little  mute  appeal  for  physical  guid- 
ance and  for  sympathy.  The  contact  sent  a  thrill 
to  his  heart  and  set  his  tensed  muscles  to  trembling, 
but  the  woman  was  not  consciously  aware  of  it; 
her  every  thought  was  centered  upon  her  baby. 

They  reached  the  well,  a  few  paces  further  up  the 
hillside,  and  with  a  few  powerful  strokes  of  the  pump 
handle  John  filled  the  big  pitcher  to  the  brim  with 
the  clear,  cold  water.  Then  he  turned  and  glanced 
at  Rose. 

She  was  standing,  motionless,  facing  the  eastern 
mountain,  over  the  wooded  summit  of  which  the 
rim  of  the  full  moon  was  just  appearing,  a  segment 
of  gleaming  silver.  Its  cool  light  began  to  overflow 
into  the  valley,  magically  dispelling  the  dark  night 
shadows,  and  momentarily  making  every  familar 
object  more  clearly  discernible,  yet  unreal.  The 
misty  radiance  enveloped  the  woman,  in  her  simple 


302 SMILING  PASS 

white  dress,  and  imparted  to  her  lovely  face  an 
ethereal  quality,  to  which  the  shadow  of  pain  re- 
flected in  her  wonderful  eyes  gave  an  added 
appeal. 

The  man  caught  his  breath  sharply,  and  he  reached 
out  his  hands  to  her.  The  irresistible  call  of  the  mo- 
ment, the  loveliness  of  the  woman  whom  he  had 
long  worshiped  in  silence,  and  who  now  stood  so 
close  to  him — and  suffering, — caused  his  heart  to 
leap  and  break  the  final  bond  of  restraint  which 
had  held  it  in  check  during  almost  two  years  of 
craving,  that  had  grown  more  insistent  with  each 
succeeding  day. 

John  had  fluxed  his  iron  will,  turned  it  into  steel 
in  the  fires  of  love,  and  built  of  it  a  wall  to  contain 
the  flames  of  his  burning,  hopeless  passion;  but  now 
they  leaped  with  such  fierce  intensity  that  it  became 
molten  again.  His  soul  was  sered,  but  the  agony  of 
knowing  that  his  effort  was  futilely  ended  only 
added  to  his  love  and  longing.  The  anguish  of  the 
moment  started  beads  of  sweat  upon  his  forehead, 
and  was  evidenced  in  every  feature. 

Still  unconscious  of  the  change  which  had  swept 
over  the  man  beside  her,  Rose  continued  to  gaze  at 
the  slowly  rising  glory  of  the  night.  It  was  so  majes- 
tic, so  calm,  that  it  could  not  help  but  restore  a 
moiety  of  peace  to  her  heart.  God  was  in  His  heaven; 
of  course  her  darling's  illness  was  but  a  passing 
thing — if  she  were  then  nursing  a  baby  other  than 
her  own  she  would  not  be  unduly  disturbed,  even 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  303 

though  every  infant  was  precious  to  her.  She  smiled; 
at  least  the  faint  suggestion  of  a  smile  touched  her 
lips,  newborn  courage  and  a  trace  of  lingering  pain 
both  having  a  share  in  it. 

John  saw  it,  and  its  very  sweetness  was  like  a 
knife-thrust  to  him. 

"God,"  he  whispered,  hoarsely.  "Don't  look  like 
that!  I  can't  bear  it,  Rose." 

She  turned  quickly  to  him.  She  instinctively 
reached  out  her  hand,  in  a  movement  alike  of  appeal 
and  wondering  protest,  and  he  seized  it  in  a  grasp 
so  passionate  that  a  little  cry  of  pain  was  wrung 
from  her  lips. 

"John!  Don't  speak— don't  look  that  way!" 
she  exclaimed. 

"I  can't  help  it.  To  see  you,  so  beautiful  .  .  . 
and  suffering  ...  I  can't  stand  it.  If  I  could, 
I'd  give  my  life  to  save  you  a  moment's  pain.  Oh, 
how  I  love  you,  heart  of  my  heart!" 

"Are  you  mad,  John?" 

Her  tone  held  rather  frightened  distress  than 
anger,  and  she  freed  her  hand  and  placed  it  against 
his  breast  in  an  action  which  was  still  more  appeal- 
ing and  protesting. 

Her  touch,  light  as  it  was,  served  as  an  electric 
spark  to  set  in  action  his  dynamic  nature.  He  swept 
her  into  his  arms  and  held  her  almost  brutally  tight, 
the  while  whispering  words  of  passionate  love  in 
her  ears  as  she  pressed  her  face  close  against  his 
breast  in  order  to  avoid  his  questing  lips.  She  was, 
for  an  instant,  too  surprised  and  shocked  to  resist. 


304  SMILING  PASS 

Within  the  House  of  Happiness  Donald  had  limped 
painfully  to  a  chair  by  the  open  window,  and  he  saw 
it  all.  The  vague  light  of  the  half-risen  moon  illumi- 
nated the  patch  of  mountainside  before  him  as  though 
it  had  been  a  scene  on  the  stage,  and  he  felt  as  de- 
tached as  though  he  were  indeed  a  gallery  spectator 
at  the  play,  separated  from  its  action  by  the  pit; 
or  perhaps  rather  like  a  man  enduring  a  swift  night- 
mare in  which  he  must  move  in  order  to  save  a  loved 
one,  and  yet  finds  himself  bound,  unable  to  lift  so 
much  as  a  finger. 

Just  behind  him,  in  the  darkness  and  with  her 
back  fortunately  toward  the  window,  sat  Margaret, 
bending  over  the  crib  and  whispering  soft  love-words 
to  the  fretful  baby,  who  was  continually  calling, 
"Muwer,  muwer."  Even  the  relief  that  an  audible 
cry  might  have  afforded  him  was  denied  the  man,  and 
the  physical  agony  which  his  first  violent  start  had  pro- 
duced had  left  him  prostrate  and  weak.  The  moment 
held  all  the  torture  of  an  eternity  in  hell.  Rose — 
his  wife — was  in  another's  arms!  He  had  seen  her 
turn  to  that  other  and  place  her  hand  upon  his 
breast,  appealingly.  John  Hunter  loved  her,  even 
as  he  did.  And  she? 

"Muwer.    I  want  my  muwer." 

His  baby's  voice  brought  a  new  stab  to  his  heart. 
The  thought,  "Could  he  have  lost  the  greatest  thing 
in  the  world,  Smiles'  love?"  crushed  his  soul.  Im- 
possible! Reason  and  desire  alike  refused  to  sanction 
it.  Yet  was  it  impossible?  How  many  times  had  he 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  305 

bitterly  told  himself  that  he,  an  almost  helpless 
cripple,  was  no  true  mate  for  her,  in  her  abounding 
youth,  and  there  came  the  further  appalling  realiza- 
tion of  how  otherwise  unworthy — how  embittered 
and  cynical  he  had  become  during  the  past  two  years. 
And  there  was  the  final  evidence  of  his  own  eyes! 

There  came  the  sound  of  a  startled  exclamation 
just  behind  him.  Virgil  had  returned,  and  tiptoed 
into  the  room.  He,  too,  was  looking  out  of  the  win- 
dow, and  had  seen.  Donald  closed  his  eyes,  while 
the  ringer  nails  of  his  clinched  hands  bit  deep  into 
the  flesh.  He  opened  them  again.  Virgil  was  gone; 
now  he  could  hear  his  rapid  footsteps  outside  on  the 
porch. 

Two  others  heard  them  as,  well.  Rose  had  already 
twisted  free  of  John's  embrace  and  stepped  back, 
swaying  with  sudden  faintness,  but  neither  had 
moved  from  the  spot,  nor  did  they  until  Virgil,  has- 
tening up  the  hillside,  reached  them.  He  stopped, 
and  for  another  instant  the  full  white  radiance  of 
the  moon  shone  upon  the  tense,  statue-like  group. 
Then  a  veil  of  cloud-rift  drifted  over  the  shining  orb, 
partially  dimming  its  light.  With  a  sound  like  a  chok- 
ing gasp  John  wheeled  about  and  strode  down  the 
hill  towards  the  creek. 

"I'll  carry  the  pitcher  back  for  you,  Rose,"  said 
Virgil,  quietly.  She  seized  his  hand,  and  catching 
her  breath  with  a  dry  sob,  whispered,  "Poor  John 
.  .  .  poor  John."  And  then,  "Don't  tell  Donald." 

The  youth  started,  but  succeeded  in  checking  the 


306 SMILING  PASS 

words  which  he  was  on  the  point  of  uttering,  and, 
with  her  hand  still  clinging  tightly  to  his,  he  led 
her  slowly  back  to  the  house. 

Donald  had  resumed  his  former  chair,  and  in  the 
darkness  Rose  could  not  see  the  look  of  speechless 
agony  upon  his  drawn  face,  which  had  aged  years  in 
that  single  moment.  Without  speaking  to  him,  she 
dropped  on  her  knees  by  the  side  of  the  crib  and, 
taking  the  moist  handkerchief  from  Margaret,  dipped 
it  in  the  fresh  water,  murmuring  softly,  "Here, 
mother's  baby.  This  will  feel  good  on  your  hot 
little  forehead." 

No  one  else  spoke,  and  for  a  few  moments,  only 
her  continued  soothing  endearments  broke  the  utter 
silence. 

Then  it  was  further  disturbed  by  the  voice  of 
Camille,  speaking  in  low  but  troubled  tones  from 
the  doorway,  "Virgil,  do  you  know  where  Omie 
is?  The  other  girls  at  the  dormitory  say  she  hasn't 
come  in  this  evening,  and  your  mother  hasn't  seen 
her." 

Those  in  the  room  could  not  see  the  speaker, 
although  they  all  instinctively  turned  towards  the 
door.  And  each  sensed,  rather  than  saw,  the  other 
start. 

"No,"  he  answered,  stepping  towards  her.  "I 
haven't  seen  her  since  before  the  ball  game.  Why, 
where  could  .  .  ."he  stopped. 

"She  .  .  .  she  went  up  the  mountain  this  after- 
noon, Veda  says."*  Camille's  words  came  hesitatingly. 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  307 

"Did  anyone  .    .    .   was  she  alone?" 

"Make  them  stop  talking,  muwer,  please.  I 
can't  go  bye-bye,"  the  baby  broke  in,  with  a  little 
wail,  and  Rose  responded  tenderly,  "Yes,  yes,  dar- 
ling. They'll  go  out  in  the  hall.  You  go  too,  Philip," 
she  commanded  quietly,  but  with  a  heavy  though 
unnamed  fear  settling  upon  her  heart. 

"No,"  came  back  to  her  in  Camille's  retreating 
voice.  "At  least  Veda  says  that  she  also  saw  .  ." 

"Not  Mally!"  Virgil's  exclamation  sounded  as 
though  uttered  from  between  clinched  teeth. 

"Yes." 

An  hour  had  fled  by,  and  now  the  mountainside 
bore  many  tiny  yellow  lights,  zigzagging  slowly 
upward  through  the  forest.  Veda  Thorasberry  had 
reiterated  her  statement,  saying  that  Omie  had 
slipped  away  from  the  other  girls  as  soon  as  the 
dinner  dishes  had  been  washed,  and  she  had,  by 
mere  chance,  seen  her  disappear  a  few  minutes  later 
among  the  trees,  part  way  up  the  mountain.  She 
had  been  alone,  but  Malvary,  carrying  his  gun  as 
though  starting  out  to  hunt,  had  taken  the  same  trail 
almost  immediately.  The  youth's  continued  absence 
had  been  confirmed  by  a  visit  first  to  the  boy's  house 
and  then  to  the  Amos  home,  where  his  father  and 
Judd  had  learned  of  his  disappearance  with  equal 
surprise  and  anger. 

And  now  the  older  of  the  Boy  Scouts  and  several 
of  the  hastily  summoned  men  of  the  neighborhood, 


308 SMILING  PASS 

led  by  Virgil,  whose  face  in  the  moonlight  was  stem 
and  white,  were  moving  in  a  wide-strung  line  up  the 
mountain  side  with  flickering  lanterns,  seeking,  yet 
half  fearing  to  find. 

It  was  the  youth  himself  who,  another  hour  later 
— unconscious  of  the  scratches  dealt  to  his  hands  and 
face — pushed  his  way  through  a  thicket  which  grew 
close  to  the  base  of  the  cliff,  crowned  by  the  over- 
hanging flat  rock,  and  discovered  the  pitifully  hud- 
dled, still  white  form,  lying  like  a  crushed  spring 
flower  upon  a  bed  of  moss  and  beaten-down  ferns. 
With  a  dry  sob  shaking  his  weary  body,  he  knelt 
beside  her  and  gathered  her  in  his  strong  young  arms. 
Then  his  heart  stopped,  and  leaped  again  with  a 
surge  of  joy,  for  she  had  moaned  a  little  and  her 
scarcely  moving  lips  had  seemed  to  form  his  name. 

With  a  wordless  prayer  of  thanksgiving  in  his  soul, 
Virgil  lifted  his  burning  eyes  to  the  starry  heavens, 
and  saw — directly  above  him  and  full  fifty  feet  in 
the  air — the  edge  of  the  great  rock  upon  which  he 
had  once  stood  so  carelessly,  declaring  that  there 
was  no  danger.  A  small  tree,  with  one  branch  broken 
and  hanging  like  the  wing  of  a  wounded  bird,  grew 
out  almost  at  right  angles  from  a  deep  seam,  half 
way  down  the  cliff.  Suddenly  he  knew.  She  had 
fallen  from  that  rock.  God  in  Heaven,  why  had  she 
not  been  killed?  Then  came  another  thought.  If 
she  had  fallen,  might  it  not  have  been  an  accident, 
after  all,  and  Malvary  not  there  at  all?  With  his 
whole  soul  he  prayed  that  it  had  been  so. 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  309 

Then  he  stood  erect,  with  his  little  sister  still  in 
his  arms,  and  cried  aloud,  "I've  found  her!  She's 
here.  Quick,  bring  your  lanterns!" 

The  other  searchers  came  running  and  crashing 
through  the  bushes  until  they  had  all  gathered  about 
the  pair,  the  mountain  men  silent  and  grim,  as  was 
their  wont,  for  such  tragedies  were  ever  in  the  back- 
ground of  their  lives;  the  boys  silent  from  fright 
and  curiosity  combined.  All  of  them  offered  to  help 
him  carry  his  burden  down  the  mountain,  but  he  re- 
fused. She  was  his,  and  he  could  not  part  with  her 
again,  even  for  a  moment.  And  so  he  bore  her  down 
the  unpathed  hillside,  as  gently  as  possible,  yet  with 
his  heart  crying  out  for  the  happily  unconscious 
girl  who  moaned  with  every  fresh  jolt  and  jar,  al- 
though she  could  not  have  known  that  she  suffered. 

Almost  a  third  hour  later  the  slow-moving  group 
emerged  from  the  forest's  fringe  into  the  clearing^ 
and  the  moonlit  roofs  of  Smiling  Pass  appeared  just 
below  them;  and  stopped  there,  abruptly.  For  to 
their  ears  came  the  vicious  crack  of  a  rifle,  followed 
by  a  cry  of  human  pain,  and  their  eyes  caught  sight 
of  three  figures  fleeing,  and  then  of  red  and  yellow 
tongues  of  flame  leaping  up  at  one  corner  of  the 
sawmill  shed.  From  somewhere,  surely  not  in  Beaten 
Creek  this  night,  when  everybody  knew  that  tragedy 
was  on  foot  at  the  Center,  had  come  a  few  rioters, 
primed  with  corn  whisky  and  bent  on  mischief, 
which  was  perhaps  not  wholly  vicious  in  its  incep- 
tion, but  rather  a  sport  too  fascinating  to  be  passed 


310 SMILING  PASS 

up  when  such  a  rare  occasion  had  been  made  for 
participation  in  it.  One  of  them  had  tolled  the  guard 
away  from  the  tempting  sawmill,  by  tearing  down 
a  distant  section  of  the  paling  fence,  while  the  other 
two  set  fire  to  a  ready-made  pile  of  chips  and  shav- 
ings beside  the  boiler.  Bill  Cress,  chafing  at  his  en- 
forced inaction,  had  seen  the  fleeing  figures  and  shot 
to  kill,  although  he  merely  wounded,  as  they  were 
to  learn  later. 

"Run,  boys!"  commanded  Virgil,  his  voice  thick 
with  rage  at  this  final  injury.  "Ring  the  alarm,  and 
form  the  fire  bucket  line  from  the  creek." 

They  obeyed  on  the  instant,  thrilling  with  the 
new  excitement,  and,  aided  by  the  equally  incensed 
men,  Virgil  himself  almost  ran  the  rest  of  the  way 
to  the  door  of  the  House  of  Happiness,  where  Rose, 
Margaret  and  Camille  were  waiting,  pale  and  fright- 
ened. The  baby  was  at  last  restlessly  asleep. 

But  there  was  no  sleep  for  the  other  dwellers  hi 
the  house  that  night. 

Donald  sat  in  the  vaguely  lighted  room  by  the 
side  of  his  feverish  baby  daughter,  and  his  thoughts 
were  grotesquely  distorted,  his  fears  magnified, 
like  his  own  shadow  cast  by  the  moonlight  upon 
the  further  wall.  His  child  was  seriously  ill;  if  she 
should  die  what  had  he  left?  With  that  thought 
would  begin  again  the  oft-fought  battle  between 
faith  and  reason,  on  the  one  hand,  and  suspicion 
and  jealousy  on  the  other.  To  have  even  so  much 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  311 

as  misgiving  regarding  Rose's  loyalty — no  matter 
how  much  provocation  she  might  have  had  to  turn 
to  another  for  love  and  consolation — was  unthinkable. 
Yet  the  next  moment  he  was  doing  it,  and  conse- 
quently flaying  his  own  soul  for  so  doing. 

Margaret — full  of  sympathy,  but  unsuspecting  the 
true  cause  of  the  misery  apparent  in  his  face  every 
time  that  the  lamp  was  lighted — remained  with  him. 

Rose  and  Philip  spent  the  dragging  hours  between 
the  crib  of  the  sick  and  fretful  child  and  the  hospital 
cot  which  held  the  moaning  girl,  now  in  a  state  of 
coma,  now  weakly  delirious.  Beside  her,  sat  her 
mother — motionless,  speechless,  with  the  latest  of 
many  sorrows  evidenced  only  by  the  agonized  look 
in  her  tired  eyes — with  Camille  beside  her,  holding, 
and  sometimes  gently  stroking,  her  gnarled  hand. 
Outside,  on  the  veranda  between  the  two  buildings, 
Virgil  paced  incessantly,  and  the  sound  of  his  heavy 
footsteps  reminded  Rose  of  that  other  night,  years 
before,  when  she  had  sat — alone  that  time — by  the 
side  of  the  equally  desperately  ill  Lou  Amos,  while 
her  brother  walked,  back  and  forth,  like  that,  upon 
the  squeaking  snow  outside  the  cabin  door.  As  then, 
she  now  wanted  to  run  out  and  order  the  man  to 
cease,  before  she  went  mad. 

Soon  after  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  the  first 
pale  opalescent  streaks  preceding  the  true  dawn 
appeared  above  the  eastern  mountain,  and  simul- 
taneously Camille  came  out  from  the  hospital  door- 
way and  laid  her  hand  in  that  of  the  tortured  youth. 


312  SMILING  PASS 

"Is  she  ...  is  Omie  .  .  .?"  A  sudden  chok- 
ing sensation  in  his  throat  prevented  him  from  com- 
pleting the  question. 

"She  is  better,  I  think,  Virgie.  Your  mother  and 
Rose,  they  are  talking  with  her,  for  she  is  no  longer 
delirious." 

"Thank  God!"  Suddenly  he  noticed  how  weary 
she  looked,  and  added,  "You'd  better  go  to  bed, 
child.  You've  been  up  all  night." 

"And  you,  too.    I  .    .    .   I  am  going  now." 

She  swayed  slightly,  and  caught  hold  of  the  railing, 
but  refused  his  offer  to  accompany  her  as  far  as  the 
dormitory.  When  she  had  departed,  slowly,  the 
man  turned  and  stood,  immovable,  gazing  at  the 
closed  door  of  the  hospital.  What  was  Omie,  his 
little  sister,  telling  to  the  two  women  within  that  for- 
bidding portal?  A  sudden  wave  of  weakness  swept 
over  him,  as  he  saw  the  door  open  again  and  Smiles 
step  forth  from  it.  He  wanted  to  go  forward  to  meet 
her,  but  could  not.  How  pale  and  wan,  she,  too,  looked 
in  the  cold  light  of  the  early  morning!  Virgil  tried  to 
speak,  but  failed  even  in  that. 

"Come  with  me." 

Rose  spoke  softly,  as  she  turned  in  the  other  di- 
rection from  the  House  of  Happiness.  The  lettered 
sign  over  its  door  caught  his  eye,  by  chance,  and  he 
felt  that  her  act  was  full  of  ill-omen.  With  an  effort, 
he  followed  and  fell  in  step  with  her  as  she  walked 
down  the  bridge-like  piazza,  toward  the  dining  hall. 
For  a  moment  neither  spoke. 


THE  TRAGIC  NIGHT  313 

Then  Rose  gave  a  weary  sigh  and  said,  "I  don't 
know,  dear  boy.  She  is  sleeping  now — we've  given  her 
a  harmless  narcotic — but  she  is  fearfully  bruised  and 
wrenched.  I  don't  think  that  a  single  bone  was  brok- 
en, but  she  has  a  bad  concussion — God  alone  knows 
why  she  wasn't  killed  outright  by  that  terrible  fall!" 

Virgil  grew  cold  all  over,  and  his  legs  felt  oddly 
weak  and  detached.  He  attempted  to  speak  at  least 
thrice  before  he  succeeded  in  uttering  the  words, 
"Did  he  .  .  .  did  Malvary  .  .  .?" 

"No,  dear." 

Once  again  his  heart  grew  warm  with  relief,  and 
there  was  new  life  in  his  voice  as  he  cried,  "Then  he 
wasn't  there,  after  all?  Oh,  thank  God." 

For  an  instant  Rose  did  not  answer.  Then  she  said 
sadly,  "Yes,  Virgil,  he  was  there.  You  have  made  a 
great  mistake — we  all  have.  We  share  in  the  blame 
for  this  tragedy.  They  loved  each  other  .  .  ." 

He  clinched  his  fists  and  would  have  hotly  inter- 
rupted; but  she  checked  him  by  hastily  continuing, 
"We  might  have  ended  their  infatuation  in  a  differ- 
ent way  than  this,  if  we  had  fully  understood,  and 
you  had  not  been  so  bitterly  hostile  to  him,  always, 
and  so  dictatorial  in  the  way  in  which  you  have 
forbidden  Omie  so  much  as  to  talk  to  him.  It  resulted 
as  it  always  does,  Virgil.  Blind  opposition  invariably 
fans  the  flame  of  youthful  passion.  We  should  have 
known  that  it  would  .  .  .  /  should  have  known  it." 

"What  .  .  .  what  happened  ...  up  there?" 
he  demanded,  ignoring  her  words. 


314 SMILING  PASS 

"Mally  followed  her — I  suppose  that  it  was  all  pre- 
arranged, a  tryst.  He  begged  her  to  run  away  and 
marry  him  at  once — they're  still  children  in  our 
eyes,  but,  from  the  mountain  standards,  quite  old 
enough  to  marry.  I  think  that  she  must  have  refused 
to  leave  us — to  leave  you — yet  ...  It  was  hard  to 
get  the  story  clearly,  she  was  so  weak  and  only  half 
lucid.  Poor  child,  she  sobbed  so!"  Rose  paused,  then 
hurried  on  to  stop  his  outburst.  "She  loved  him  and 
told  him  so;  and  he  loved  her — truly,  I  have  no 
doubt,  as  well  as  with  all  the  passion  of  his  untamed 
mountain  nature.  Oh,  he  came  to  us  too  late  to 
change!  We  must  remember  his  own  tragic  boy- 
hood, Virgil.  As  terrible  as  what  happened  is,  I 
can't  find  it  in  my  heart  to  blame  him  too  greatly." 

"Did  she  ...  did  she  jump?" 

"No,  at  least  I  do  not  think  so.  His  love  overcame 
his  self-restraint  just  as  ...  as  John's  ..." 

"I  know." 

"She  was  frightened  .  .  .  and  fled,  blindly. 
Oh,  the  poor  child." 

"And  he  ...  he  saw  her  fall  .  .  .  and  ran 
away."  Virgil's  words  fell  now  like  the  cutting  lash 
of  a  steel  flail. 

"Don't.  He  must  have  thought  that  she  was 
.  .  .  was  killed.  Of  course  he  was  terror-stricken." 

"I'm  going  to  find,  and  kill  him!" 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW 

"YES,  I'm  going  to  km  him!" 

Rose  cried  out  in  terror,  as  much  at  the  sound  of 
Virgil's  voice,  which  was  utterly  changed — so  thick 
and  hoarse  as  to  be  almost  inarticulate — as  at  the 
words  themselves.  Others,  too,  had  heard  the  threat 
and  shared  her  fear. 

Playwright  and  author  have  free  rein  over  their 
puppet  characters,  and  can  bring  them  into  scene 
or  story  at  the  psychological  moment  in  subser- 
vience to  their  wills.  But  Fate  is  ever  the  greatest 
of  all  dramatists,  and  men,  her  playthings,  obey  her 
behests  just  as  inexorably.  In  the  intensity  of  their 
talk  neither  Virgil  nor  Rose  had  marked  the  ap- 
proach, from  different  directions,  of  several  others 
who  dwelt  at  Smiling  Pass. 

First  there  was  Humpty  Hite,  toiling  up  the  hill- 
side on  the  initial  of  many  trips  with  coal  to  the 
kitchen.  He  stopped,  and  stood — bowed  and  piti- 
able— with  curious  amazement  in  his  weak  blue  eyes. 
Then  there  was  the  youth's  mother,  worn  and  weary 
from  her  long  vigil  by  the  bedside  of  her  stricken 
daughter,  yet  still  obedient  to  the  call  of  duty.  The 
hunger  of  the  multitude  must  needs  be  satisfied, 


316  SMILING  PASS 

even  if  her  whole  world  was  in  chaos.  And  with  her 
came  Camille,  her  countenance  temporarily  refreshed 
by  an  application  of  stinging,  icy  water.  Tired  as 
she  was,  sleep  had  been  out  of  the  question,  and  she 
had  suddenly  remembered  that  Mrs.  Gayheart  would 
need  help  in  preparing  the  breakfast.  This  morn- 
ing Omie  could  not  aid  her. 

Last,  there  was  Judd,  slowly  mounting  the  steps. 
He  had  not  slept  that  night,  either,  for  he  knew  that 
his  nephew  was  still  missing  and  inferentially  charged 
with  a  deadly  sin.  Now  he  was  coming,  slowly,  to 
learn  the  worst. 

The  sight  of  Malvary's  uncle — the  man  who  was 
responsible  for  the  lad's  coming  to  Smiling  Pass, 
who  had  pledged  himself  for  his  good  behavior  and 
always  taken  his  part,  almost  acrimoniously,  when 
friction  had  arisen — unloosed  the  full  power  of 
Virgil's  grief  and  rage.  In  excoriating  words  he 
recounted  the  story  of  Omie's  tragedy  and — for  the 
moment  utterly  forgetful  of  the  fact  that  he  was  in 
the  presence  of  women — spoke  in  the  language  of 
wrathful  men,  without  consideration. 

Judd  did  not  respond,  verbally;  but  the  look  upon 
his  face  told  the  story  of  his  distress.  Heavy  at  heart, 
he  turned  and  with  bowed  head  slowly  descended 
the  steps.  The  others  paid  no  attention  to  his  going, 
for  Camille — who  had  now  heard  the  full  story  for 
the  first  time — was  weeping  bitterly  and  crying  out, 
with  all  the  pent-up  passion  of  a  nature  in  which 
abhorrence  of  lascivious  men  had  become  ingrained, 
"Oh,  le  bete;  le  Boche!  Qu'ilfaut  mourirl" 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  317 

"No,  no,  Camilla!  Don't  speak  like  that;  you 
don't  understand.  You're  a  child,  and  don't  under- 
stand the  power  of  temptation,"  Rose  protested, 
drawing  the  girl,  now  trembling  with  grief  and  pas- 
sion, into  her  arms. 

But  Camille  shook  her  head  in  violent  denial,  and 
answered,  "I  do.  I  do,  Rose.  But  it  is  not  an  excuse 
for  .  .  .  that.  Were  not  Virgil  and  J  thus  on  that 
very  rock,  once,  and  he  .  .  . "  She  abruptly  checked 
herself,  even  in  the  midst  of  the  onward  sweep  of 
her  excitement,  and  the  woman,  suddenly  under- 
standing, held  her  closer. 

Virgil's  mother  had  clasped  him  to  her  thin  breast. 
Her  toil-worn  hands  were  clutching  him  desperately 
and  her  seamed  face  was  working  pathetically  with 
the  stress  of  her  spiritual  agony  as  she  pleaded  in 
like  manner,  "No,  Virgie!  No,  my  boy.  'Thou  shalt 
not  kill' — the  Bible  says  hit,  and  ef  we  kaint  put 
aour  faith  in  'the  Book  when  trouble  comes,  whar  is 
aour  hope?  Virgie,  lad;  you  wouldn't  start  the  old 
feud  up  again,  would  you?  Hev  you  forgotten? 
Your  poor  brother  killed  Malvary's  grandfather,  and 
now  .  .  .  O  Gawd  in  heaven,  don't  let  him  dew 
hit!"  The  man  shook  himself  free  of  his  mother's 
clinging  embrace  almost  roughly,  his  expression 
unsoftened. 

In  turn  Rose  flung  her  arms  about  his  shoulders, 
pleading,  "Virgil,  listen  to  your  mother — Omie's 
mother.  We've  got  to  forgive.  It  isn't  as  though 
.  .  .Virgil,  look  at  me!  Where  has  your  reason 


318 SMILING  PASS 

fled  to?  You're  not  yourself,  just  now.  Would  you 
wilfully  become  a  murderer?  No,  no!  That's  what 
it  would  mean.  Think  of  all  that  is  at  stake.  If  you 
don't  care  about  yourself,  think  of  us,  your  mother, 
the  work  that  we  are  doing  for  your  people.  Oh, 
you  must.  The  Cause  ..." 

"Damn  the  Cause!"  he  burst  out,  bitterly.  "What 
do  I  care  for  that,  now?  It's  my  sister.  She's  dying. 
He  killed  her." 

"No.  It  isn't  true.  Please  listen  to  me,  Virgil. 
Please!  Omie  isn't  going  to  die.  In  a  little  while  she'll 
be  as  well,  as  happy  and  as  sweet  as  ever.  I  promise 
it,  Virgil."  Rose  was  weeping  from  the  very  inten- 
sity of  her  supplication  and  the  apparent  futility  of 
it.  "  I  promise  that,  Virgil,  and  I  want  you  to  prom- 
ise something,  too.  Say  you'll  go  home;  lie  down  and 
rest  a  little  while.  Of  course  you're  all  unstrung, 
now;  but  you'll  see  all  these  things  in  a  different,  a 
brighter  light,  bye  and  bye." 

"Yes,  Virgie,  boy.  You  dew  like  Rose  says.  Go 
home  and  lay  daown,"  entreated  Mrs.  Gayheart, 
and  Smiles  added,  "Rest.  After  a  little  while  I'll 
send  Camille  over  to  you  with  some  breakfast."  With 
tender  appeal  she  drew  her  arms  closer  about  his  neck. 

"Breakfast!" 

There  was  a  world  of  bitter  scorn  in  his  voice, 
but  he  nevertheless  yielded  to  her  plea,  breaking 
away  and  running  down  the  steps  and  across  to  his 
own  cottage.  He  entered  it,  and  closed  the  door 
behind  him. 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  319 

As  he  disappeared,  Smiles  turned  to  Camille,  her 
face  pale  and  drawn  from  the  fight  she  had  fought, 
and  commanded  tensely,  "Hurry  and  find  Bill  Cress; 
run,  Camille.  Mally  is  certainly  hiding  somewhere 
on  the  mountains  and,  for  Virgil's  sake  as  well  as 
his  own,  we  must  start  a  posse  in  search  of  him,  be- 
fore .  .  ." 

She  did  not  need  to  finish  her  sentence,  for  the  girl 
was  already  running  down  the  steps  on  her  errand. 
The  final  words  of  Rose's  plea  to  Virgil  had  produced 
a  complete  reversal  in  her  feelings.  It  was  not  that 
she  had  any  greater  sympathy  for  the  fugitive,  yet; 
but  the  other  must  not  be  permitted  to  carry  out  his 
threat.  Breathless,  Camille  arrived  at  Bill's  new  and 
neat  little  cottage  and  implored  his  unwilling  wife 
to  call  him  from  the  sleep  into  which  he  had  but  a 
few  moments  before  fallen,  stretched,  fully  clothed, 
upon  the  bed.  When  he  had  been  aroused,  she  told 
her  story,  while  the  crowd  of  half-clad  children  stood 
and  listened,  open-mouthed.  She  ended  with  Rose's 
command,  and  added  her  own  entreaty  to  it  that 
he  hurry  to  collect  some  of  the  neighbors  and  go  up 
into  the  hills,  not  to  kill,  but  to  warn  Malvary  of 
his  peril  and  get  him  away,  somewhere,  before  the 
added  tragedy  which  threatened  should  occur. 

Bill  at  length  assented,  rebelliously,  saying  that 
he  would  collect  a  posse  and  commence  the  hunt. 
He  further  intimated  that  he  could  guess  where  the 
fugitive  was  hiding,  for  would  he  not  instinctively 
have  fled  to  the  hidden  cave  which  had  sheltered 


320 SMILING  PASS 

him  and  his  father,  for  months,  and  previously  fur- 
nished a  place  of  refuge  for  the  speaker  himself? 

He  was  bound  up,  heart  and  soul,  in  Smiling  Pass 
and,  like  all  the  rest,  deeply  fond  of  the  merry  little 
Omie.  Now  the  expression  on  his  face  caused  a  clutch 
of  fear  at  Camille's  heart,  even  while  his  words  brought 
reassurance  to  her  mind.  Virgil  might  be  saved,  but 
what  of  Mally?  The  girl's  blind  fury  against  the  one 
who  would  have  betrayed  her  dear  companion's 
trusting  love,  and  which  had  caused  her  to  cry,  "he 
should  die,"  had  passed  a  little  now,  and  she  caught 
her  breath  with  a  painful  sob,  as  the  thought  was 
brought  sharply  home  to  her  that  he,  scarcely  more 
than  a  boy,  might  actually  be  facing  death  by  vio- 
ence  within  an  hour,  especially  if,  after  the  manner  of 
mountain  men,  he  should  resist  Bill  and  the  others. 

Camille  parted  from  Bill  at  the  cottage  door  and 
slowly  retraced  her  steps  to  Smiling  Pass,  which 
was  now  indeed  outwardly  true  to  its  name,  for 
Nature  does  not  adapt  her  varying  moods  to  suit 
the  moods  of  men,  whose  temporal  woes  are  naught 
in  the  great  scheme  of  infinite  things.  There  might 
well  be  deep  shadows  this  morning  in  the  hearts  of  those 
who  dwelt  in  that  particular  spot,  but  nevertheless 
it  was  outwardly  filled  with  a  blaze  of  golden  sun- 
light, and  spring,  robed  in  palest  green  dotted  with 
the  redbuds'  lavender  bloom  and  the  white  masses 
of  flowering  dogwood,  was  smiling  there.  The  gen- 
erations of  man,  with  then-  pain  and  tears  and  joy 
and  laughter,  pass  away  and  are  gone  like  the  grass 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  321 

that  withereth,  but  the  world  goes  on,  unheeding, 
and,  if  it  be  springtime,  joyous  in  its  re-birth. 

The  last  of  the  pupils  were  entering  the  dining-hall 
to  eat  their  morning  meal  in  constrained  and  fright- 
ened silence;  but  Camille  turned  in  the  opposite 
direction.  She  crossed  the  little  foot-bridge,  which 
now  took  the  place  of  the  stepping  stones  across  the 
creek  to  the  spot  where  stood  the  Gayheart  cottage, 
and  hesitatingly  knocked  upon  the  door. 

There  was  no  answer,  and,  after  twice  repeating 
her  summons,  more  sharply,  the  girl  opened  the 
door  and  entered.  In  the  stress  of  the  moment  she 
was  utterly  forgetful  of  every  rule.  It  was  enough 
that  Virgil  needed  her  strength  and  comfort — if  he 
were  still  there.  A  swift  fear  born  of  that  thought 
made  her  press  her  hand  hard  against  her  throbbing 
heart  as  she  called  his  name,  first  softly,  then  insis- 
tently. Still  no  answer  came,  and  she  ran  to  the  door 
of  his  bedroom  and  pushed  it  wide  open.  That  room, 
too,  was  empty.  Virgil  had  gone !  Where  .  .  .  and 
why? 

Camille  had  been  in  the  chamber  often  when  its 
occupant  was  absent,  helping  Mrs.  Gayheart  clean 
it  or  make  up  the  narrow  iron  bed.  She  knew  where 
each  thing  stood  therein — the  bed;  the  two  rush- 
bottomed  chairs;  the  plain  dresser — upon  it  her  own 
picture,  a  snapshot  taken  by  Philip  and  inscribed, 
"  From  your  Belgian  sister,"  between  one  of  his  mother 
and  one  of  Omie;  the  home-made  rack  full  of  serious 
books;  his  army  rifle  ....  The  corner  in  which 
it  always  leaned  was  empty! 


322 SMILING  PASS 

Camille  gave  a  dry  sob  and  dropped,  prone,  upon 
the  unrampled  bed  with  its  spotless  "kiwerlid" 
which  she  had  woven  with  her  own  hands  in  the  fasci- 
nating true  lover's  knot  pattern  that  she  and  Omie 
had  discovered  in  their  old  cabin.  Her  whole  being 
became  a  prayer. 

She  might  have  lain  there  for  half  an  hour,  or 
more,  unconscious  even  of  time  and  place,  or  whether 
she  was  actually  living.  Her  entire  world  had  become 
one  of  unrealities;  her  soul  and  thoughts  were  alike 
separated  from  her  body  and  vainly  attempting  to 
follow  the  man  who  had  gone — somewhere.  The 
happy  life  which  had  been  her's  during  the  past 
two  years  was  utterly  blotted  out,  as  though  she  had 
never  known  anything  but  the  horrors  of  war  and  this 
new,  and  greater,  horror.  She  lay  under  a  black 
shadow,  through  which  no  gleam  of  light  might  pass. 
It  enveloped  her  mind  completely  and  cut  it  off 
from  all  things,  save  two  which  kept  it  company. 
They  were  fear  .  .  .  and  love.  For  the  girl  knew, 
at  last,  that  Virgil  was  her  whole  world,  and  he  had 
gone,  leaving  emptiness. 

Suddenly  she  started  upright,  brought  abruptly 
back  to  equally  painful  realities  by  a  noise  that  beat 
upon  her  brain  like  a  hammer — the  sound  of  distant 
shots,  far,  far  up  on  the  summit  of  one  of  the  oppo- 
site hills.  There  were  a  number,  some  light  and  sharp, 
some  louder  and  deeper.  Hundreds  of  times  she  had 
heard  their  like  before  in  Belgium  and  France,  and 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  323 

again  and  again  in  her  dreams.    They  came  from  an 
army  rifle.    Whose? 

For  the  first  time  in  her  life  Camille  slipped  to  the 
floor  in  a  dead  faint. 

All  save  one  of  the  hurriedly  collected  posse  had 
returned.  They  had  brought  and  laid  upon  the  porch 
of  the  House  of  Happiness  the  motionless  form  of 
Malvary  Amos,  now  concealed  from  the  misty  or 
tear-filled  eyes  of  the  group  on  the  other  side  of  it, 
by  tattered  coats.  Rose,  Philip  and  Margaret  were 
there  and  behind  them  Donald,  on  his  crutches,  and 
Camille,  clutching  his  arm  in  agony.  A  little  further 
off  were  some  of  the  girls  from  the  weaving  room  and 
boys  from  the  printing  office.  The  little  boys  were, 
fortunately,  at  school. 

Zenas  Tittle  was  speaking. 

"We  beared  thet  thar  shoo  tin'  when  we  was  most 
tew  the  top  uv  the  maounting,"  he  said.  "Me  and 
Bill  got  thar  first  and  seed  Mally,  hyar,  layin'  on  the 
ground  with  Virgie  standin'  near  him  with  thet 
thar  army  rifle  uv  his'n  in  his  hand.  He  didn't  make 
no  objection  when  we  tuck  him,  but  he  kept  a-sayin' 
over  and  over,  sort  of  dazed-like,  'I  didn't  dew  hit. 
I  swear  I  didn't  dew  hit.'  I  reckon  thet  he  was  kind 
uv  crazy  from  .  .  .  from  everything.  But,  ef  he 
didn't  dew  hit,  then  my  name  haint  Zenas  Tittle. 
Hit's  an  open  and  shet  case  agin  him." 

There  was  no  voice  of  dissent  raised,  even  in  the 
aching  hearts  of  those  who  saw  the  picture  through 
his  eyes. 


324  SMILING  PASS 

"Was  he  ...  was  Virgil  wounded?"  whispered 
Rose. 

"No.  Mally  must  hev  shot  three  or  four  times, 
but  I  reckon  he  war  rattled." 

"Where  is  he,  now?" 

"They  started  tew  walk  daown  tew  Fayville — him 
and  Bill.  Virgie  said  thet  he  war  going  tew  give  him- 
self up,  and  he  allaowed  thet  he'd  ruther  not  cum 
back  hyar,  first." 

"Then  he's  in  prison!  Oh,  man  Dieu!"  Camille 
spoke  in  a  faint  voice. 

"Not  yet  he  haint,  I  don't  reckon,  Camilly.  But 
he  will  be  right  smart  ef  they  keep  on  the  way  they 
started  aout — hit  haint  but  ten  miles,  takin'  the  short 
cut  over  the  maounting.  I  allaows,  though,  thet 
you-all  can  get  him  bailed  aout  a-fore  night." 

"Yes,"  cried  Rose.  "  Someone  must  see  the  County 
Judge  and  get  hold  of  John  Combs  at  once.  Oh, 
whom  can  we  send?  If  John  were  only  here  .  .  . " 

"Where  in  the  devil  is  John?"  Philip  broke  in 
with  irritation  in  his  tone.  "He  aught  to  be  around 
today,  of  all  days,  and  I  haven't  seen  him  once." 

Rose  caught  her  breath  sharply,  and  a  quick  flush 
dispelled  for  an  instant  the  pallor  of  her  face.  Only 
one  saw  it,  however,  but  Donald,  with  a  smothered 
groan,  turned  from  the  doorway  and  swung  himself 
painfully  back  to  the  room  where  his  baby  daughter 
lay,  still  feverishly  fretful.  "Muwer.  Where  are 
you,  muwer?  I  want  you,"  she  was  sobbing.  Donald 
lowered  himself  to  a  chair  beside  the  crib,  and  bent 


THE  VALLEY  OF  THE  SHADOW  325 

over  until  his  head  rested  on  the  edge  of  it  which 
pressed  deep  into  his  forehead.  "And  we  called  this 
'Smiling  Pass'  and  'The  House  of  Happiness'," 
he  muttered  through  clinched  teeth.  The  baby 
stopped  sobbing  and  gently  patted  his  unshaven 
cheek.  "It's  wuff,  daddy,"  she  said. 

Out  on  the  porch  Rose  was  continuing  hastily, 
"I  can't  let  you  go,  Phil.  Oraie  needs  a  doctor  near 
her  every  minute,  and  poor  Donald  isn't  himself 
today.  And  /  need  you,  too.  Everything  is  dropping 
to  pieces  and  my  morale  with  it,  I'm  afraid."  She 
caught  his  hand  and  held  it  tightly. 

"I'll  go.  I'm  going,  anyway,"  said  Camille  with 
sudden  resolution. 

"Camille!   You  can't." 

"lean.   I'm  going  to." 

"Of  course,  and  I  shall  go  with  her,"  exclaimed 
Margaret,  decisively. 

"Margaret,  you  are  a  brick,"  Philip  exclaimed, 
for  the  second  time. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  CROSS 

SCARCELY  a  quarter  of  an  hour  had  elapsed  before 
the  two  girls  were  riding  Fayvillewards  on  Margaret's 
sturdy  little  mules.  Even  under  normal  conditions 
the  three  hour  trip  would  have  been  a  most  wearing 
one  that  day,  for  the  road  was  deep  with  innumerable 
mudholes  and  gullies,  and  the  waters  of  the  creek 
were  swollen  until  their  rocks  and  boulders  were 
covered.  The  sure-footed  animals  had  to  pick  their 
way,  most  of  the  time  in  single  file,  and  conversation 
between  their  riders  was  made  almost  impossible. 

feesides,  Camille's  heart  was  too  fully  charged  for 
utterance  and  Margaret  guessed  her  secret  and  was 
sympathetically  silent.  There  are  times  when  even 
the  most  consoling  words  are  superfluous.  The  day 
was  unseasonably  hot,  its  sultriness  adding  to  their 
manifold  discomforts,  and  they  were  shaken  and 
weary  long  before  the  little  mining  town,  which  was 
their  destination,  appeared  in  view  below  them,  as 
they  turned  the  last  of  many  abrupt  comers. 

Fayville  was  normally  the  most  simple  and  som- 
nolent of  places — a  few  score  of  scattering  homes 
which  lined  one  narrow  street  on  either  side  of  a 
little  collection  of  larger  drab  buildings — the  county 
326 


THE  CROSS  327 


Court  House,  railroad  station,  miscellaneous  stores 
and  the  like.  But,  to  the  astonished  gaze  of  the  new 
arrivals,  it  seemed  suddenly  to  have  been  changed 
into  a  tiny  section  of  a  bustling  metropolis.  The  sun 
had  dried  the  surface  mud  of  its  unpaved  thorough- 
fare, and  gray  dust  hung  in  clouds  above  it  in  the 
breathless  air  and,  as  they  drew  near,  they  saw  that 
hundreds  of  horses  and  mules  lined  either  side,  tied 
to  every  available  post  and  fence  rail,  while  many 
more  were  galloping  madly  back  and  forth  under 
the  whip  or  spur  of  yelling  riders. 

Wholly  unknown  to  them,  they  had  come  to  the 
County  Seat  upon  the  opening  day  of  the  Circuit 
Court's  spring  term,  and  that  was  a  red  letter  day  in 
the  country's  traditional  calendar.  Not  only  did  it 
mark  the  start  of  the  political  campaigns  for  the 
season,  but  it  was  "swappin'  day"  and  the  man  or 
boy  who  had  a  mount  upon  which  to  ride  thither, 
and  returned  home  without  having  traded  some- 
thing— from  a  jackknife  to  a  pair  of  blooded  horses 
— counted  the  year  incomplete. 

The  narrow  sidewalks  were  rilled,  likewise,  with 
women  and  girls  clad  in  their  best  spring  dresses, 
eager  and  amused  spectators  at  the  bickering  groups 
of  bartering  men,  many  of  whom  had  renewed  ac- 
quaintance with  the  little  brown  jug  that  morning, 
with  the  result  that  faces  were  flushed  and  voices 
pitched  high.  Under  the  feet  of  men  and  mules, 
everywhere  scurried  squealing  pigs  and  squawking 
hens.  Dogs  barked,  horses  neighed,  mules  brayed. 


328 SMILING  PASS 

And  through  this  bedlam  and  motley  crowd  of 
merry-makers,  the  two  girls  rode  slowly,  with  heavy 
hearts  and  new  timidity,  bred  of  the  reckless  hilarity 
and  the  proximity  of  wheeling  and  rearing  steeds. 

At  length  they  reached  the  ugly,  red-brick  Court 
House,  its  yard  thronging  with  people  from  whose 
number  men  were  detaching  themselves  as  a  clerk 
upon  the  balcony  loudly  called  the  name  of  this  or 
that  one,  who  was  wanted  within  for  the  grand  jury 
which  was  then  being  impaneled. 

They  dismounted,  and  Margaret,  seeing  that  her 
little  companion  was  well-nigh  panic-stricken,  en- 
tered the  portal  of  the  lower  story,  whose  barred 
windows  proclaimed  that  the  building  also  served 
as  the  county  jail.  She  finally  discovered  a  shirt- 
sleeved,  perspiring  man,  whose  unbuttoned,  shabby 
vest  bore  a  sheriff's  badge,  and  accosted  him  with  a 
request  for  information  about  Virgil  Gayheart. 

He  stared  at  her  in  frank  surprise  for  a  moment, 
for  he  was  clearly  harried  by  the  pressing  duties  of  the 
day.  Then  he  drawled,  "Virgil  Gayheart?  Oh,  yes, 
he  cum  in  hyar  with  Bill  Cress  abaout  an  hour  ago, 
and  give  himself  up  for  shootin'  somebody,  up  tew 
Beaten.  That  the  fellow  you  mean?  " 

"Yes, ' '  answered  the  girl  with  a  catch  in  her  voice. 
"Oh,  please.  Where  is  he?" 

"I  dunno.  We  didn't  hev  no  room  fer  him,  hyar. 
Sheriff  Spurlock  pulled  a  raid  on  a  moonshine  still 
last  night,  and  all  the  cells  war  full." 

"You  .    .    .  you  don't  know  where  he  is?" 


THE  CROSS  329 


"I  reckon  .  .  .  yes,  cum  tew  think  uv  hit,  he 
said  he'd  be  over  tew  the  boarding  house,  thar,  until 
we  hed  a  place  fer  him.  You'll  find  him  thar,  I  guess." 

Margaret  gasped,  despite  the  fact  that  she  had 
become  fairly  well  versed  in  the  informality  attend- 
ing the  administration  of  mountain  penal  law.  She 
hurried  back  to  Camille  and,  leading  their  mounts, 
the  two  made  their  way  down  the  crowded  street 
toward  the  house  indicated  by  the  officer.  But  half 
way  there  Margaret  stopped,  for  her  eye  had  caught 
the  name  of  the  attorney-at-law,  whom  they  had 
likewise  come  to  seek,  painted  upon  a  window  above 
the  general  store.  She  turned  into  the  narrow  doorway 
and  Camille,  too  anxious  to  wait  longer,  hurried  on. 

There  were  a  number  of  coat-and-collarless  men 
lounging  on  the  piazza  of  the  boarding  house,  and 
they  regarded  her  curiously  as  she  ran  up  the  step 
and  past  them,  her  eyes  lowered.  But,  in  the  single 
glance  which  she  had  bestowed  upon  them,  she  had 
recognized  two,  although  she  had  seen  them  but 
once,  and  then  but  for  an  instant,  two  years  before. 
They  had  been  among  those  who  had  jeered  at  her 
discomfiture  and  Virgil's  gallantry,  on  the  afternoon 
of  her  arrival  in  Fayville.  Camille's  fast-beating 
heart  throbbed  more  quickly  still.  Even  then  he  had 
been  her  knight;  and  now  she  was  going  to  see  him, 
and  tell  him  so. 

The  proprietor  followed  her  in  through  the  door  and, 
when  he  asked  what  he  might  do  for  her,  she  cried, 
"Oh,  sir,  is  Virgil  .  .  .  Virgil  Gayheart  here? 
They  told  us  at  .  .  .at  the  prison  that  he  was." 


330 SMILING  PASS 

"I  reckon  he  air.  I  give  him  a  room  upstairs," 
was  the  answer. 

"Please,  I  want  to  see  him.    Oh,  quickly." 

"Hmmm.  You  wants  tew  see  him,  eh?  Wall  .    .    ." 

"Yes,  yes."  Suddenly  the  strangeness  of  her  re- 
quest was  borne  in  upon  her  mind  and  she  stam- 
mered, desperately,  "It's  all  right.  I  ...  I'm 
his  sister." 

"  'His  sister'?  Thet's  funny.  I  heared  thet  he 
hed  killed  a  fellow  fer  .  .  .  I  mean  thet  I  thought 
his  sister  was  dyin' ." 

"No.  That  .  .  .  that  one  is  Omie;  but  she  isn't 
dying.  I  .  .  .  I  am  another  one.  Oh,  please,  sir, 
send  word  to  him;  say  it  is  Camille.  He  ...  he 
will  understand." 

The  man  softened  at  the  sight  of  her  pitiful  dis- 
tress and  said,  not  unkindly,  "Well,  ef  you're  a  sister 
uv  his'n  I  guess  hit's  all  right.  You-all  go  right  up. 
Hit's  the  first  room  on  the  left." 

Camille  hesitated  only  for  a  second.  Then  she  flew 
up  the  stairs  and  knocked  on  the  door  of  the  room 
which  he  had  indicated. 

"Come  in,"  answered  a  muffled  voice.  She  obeyed 
and  stepped  into  the  shabby  little  chamber,  The 
man  whom  she  sought  was  seated  in  a  straight-backed 
chair,  facing  the  window,  his  hands  clasped  in  his 
lap  and  working  nervously.  For  a  moment  he  did 
not  turn  his  head;  but,  when  he  did,  he  sprang  to  his 
feet  with  a  startled  cry,  "Camille!  You?" 

The  girl  closed  the  door  behind  her. 


THE  CROSS  331 


"Philip,  what  do  you  honestly  think  about  Don- 
ald's condition?"  asked  Rose  in  an  undertone,  as 
they  stepped  out  together  from  the  House  of  Happi- 
ness and  walked  across  the  porch  to  the  railing. 
The  twilight  hour  had  come  again  and  the  baby  had 
fallen  asleep,  plainly  much  better.  Omie,  too,  was 
sleeping  naturally,  for  the  first  time,  and  gave  prom- 
ise of  a  rapid  recovery  to  full  health,  so  part  of  the 
weight  had  been  lifted  from  their  minds.  But  plenty 
remained,  and  her  husband's  almost  complete  si- 
lence, and  his  more-than-ever  marked  reserve  caused 
her  to  ask  the  question. 

"It's  hard  to  say,"  answered  her  brother.  "Of 
course  the  past  twenty-four  hours  have  been  hell 
for  him,  sitting  helpless  in  that  chair — he  hasn't 
even  had  the  relief  which  the  rest  of  us  have  found 
in  being  kept  everlastingly  busy.  I've  been  disap- 
pointed in  his  condition,  though,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  you  wrote  that  the  rainy  season  had  started 
the  trouble  up  again.  It's  been  almost  two  years 
and  a  half,  now,  hasn't  it?" 

"Yes.  What  a  crying  shame  it  is,  Phil!  We  can't 
blame  him  for  having  become  discouraged  and  a 
...  a  little  morose,  can  we?  I'm  sure  that  I  don't; 
I  am  much  more  distressed  that  I  can't  help  him 
bear  his  pain,  and  I  sometimes  reproach  myself  for 
having  given  so  much  time  to  the  work  here,  and 
other  sick  people,  and  so  little  to  comforting  him. 
He  ...  he  and  Junior  are  my  whole  world,  Phil." 
Her  voice  caught  a  little. 


332 SMILING  PASS 

"I  know.  You've  done  everything  possible,  dear 
child,  unless — I  wonder  if  an  operation  of  the  nature 
you  suggested  in  your  letter  might  not  effect  a  com- 
plete and  permanent  cure,  since  apparently  rest  and 
ordinary  treatment  have  only  brought  him  partial 
relief?  I  wish  that  I  knew  more  about  sciatica.  It's 
a  devilish  disease." 

"It  is,  indeed.  I  know  that  Don  has  suffered  per- 
fectly excrutiating  pain  at  times,  and,  even  when  he 
was  comparitively  free  from  it,  he  was  very  lame  and 
walked  with  his  knee  bent,  treading  on  his  toes  to 
relieve  the  tension  on  the  nerve.  And  his  relapses 
have  been  frequent,  sometimes  coming  when  we  were 
most  encouraged.  We've  tried  almost  everything — 
everything  but  morphine,  Donald  simply  won't 
have  it;  but  he  has  let  us  inject  distilled  water  into 
the  nerve,  and  that  has  sometimes  relieved  the  pain 
with  surprising  promptness. 

"But  now  I  feel  sure  that  the  nerve  is  so  contracted 
that  artificial  stretching  is  absolutely  necessary,  if 
he  is  ever  really  to  walk  again.  Dr.  Osier  used  to 
advise  it  in  extreme  cases  and  John  has  for  a  long 
while  been  wanting  to  try  it." 

"Where  in  the  dickens  is  John?"  he  demanded, 
for  the  second  time  that  day.  "He's  the  queerest 
fellow  that  I  ever  saw.  I  suppose  that  he's  off  on 
some  desperate  case.  The  work  he's  doing  here  is 
rather  fine,  I've  got  to  admit;  but  he's  so  darned 
secretive  that  I  can't  make  him  out  at  all.  Some- 
times I  think  that  I  like  him  tremendously,  and  then 


THE  CROSS  333 


again  I'm  half  sorry  that  I  ever  introduced  him  to 
you  and  Don." 

"Oh,  no,  Phil.  He's  worked  wonderfully,  both 
for  us  and  with  us.  I  don't  know  how  we  could  have 
got  along  without  him.  He's  utterly  different  from 
most  men  but  I  ...  I  like  him." 

Rose  had  not  been  able  wholly  to  keep  the  dis- 
tress from  her  voice  at  the  start,  but  her  final  declara- 
tion rang  so  true  that  Philip  turned  and  glanced  at 
her  quickly. 

"Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "I've  thought  a  good 
many  times  about  that  crazy  prophecy  of  Aunty 
Lissy's.  Of  course  it  was  painfully  obvious  whom 
she  meant  when  she  said  that  he  was  hopelessly  in 
love  with  a  woman  who  belonged  to  another,  and 
I've  wondered  ..." 

"Philip,  don'tl"   cried  his  sister,  sharply. 

"Look  here,  Rose.  Has  John  ever  .    .    .   ?" 

"No,  no.    Of  course  not!" 

The  woman's  conscience  smote  her.  She  had  told 
a  deliberate  lie,  and,  although  it  was  to  shield  another, 
and  there  was  not  even  in  the  background  of  her 
mind  the  slightest  thought  of  saving  herself  from 
suspicion,  the  knowledge  of  her  offense  gave  her 
bitter  pain. 

"Good.  I'm  glad  of  that,  anyway.  If  he  had — 
especially  if  Donald  had  got  wind  of  it,  in  his  present 
mental  condition — I  never  should  have  forgiven 
myself  for  having  brought  you  two  together.  Does 
he  often  go  away  without  saying  anything,  like  this?" 

"No.    Not  .       .  often." 


334 SMILING  PASS 

For  an  instant  Rose  trembled  on  the  verge  of  a 
tearful  confession  which  her  heart  clamored  to  make; 
but  the  moment  passed  with  the  words  unspoken, 
for  there  had  come  from  the  turn  in  the  road  the 
dull  sound  of  hoofs  at  a  sharp  trot  on  the  soft  road- 
bed and,  by  the  fast-fading  light,  they  saw  Camille 
and  Margaret  riding  up  to  the  gate.  The  two  hurried 
down  the  steps  and  steep  path  to  meet  them,  but 
Billy  Boy  had  arrived  fron  somewhere  and  reached 
the  gate  first.  Unless  he  were  in  school,  or  asleep, 
he  could  almost  invariably  be  found  with  his  be- 
loved Margaret,  or  waiting  for  her  to  appear. 

Philip  swung  first  one  of  the  worn-out  girls,  and 
then  the  other,  from  the  saddle  and  Margaret  did 
not  instantly  free  herself  from  his  semi-embrace, 
while  Camille  flung  her  arms  passionately  about  Rose 
and  cried,  brokenly,  "Oh,  Virgil  is  innocent,  Souris. 
He  did  not  do  it.  He  told  me  so,  and  I  know  that 
it  is  the  truth.  But  I  am  so,  so  happy." 

She  fell  to  sobbing.  All  that  she  had  that  day  been 
called  upon  to  endure,  combined  with  her  utter 
weariness,  had  broken  her  down  at  last.  The  other 
held  her  close,  realizing  the  fact;  but,  for  the  moment, 
only  half-comprehending  Camille's  assertion,  and 
thinking  more  of  comforting  her  than  of  demand- 
ing an  explanation  of  the  seemingly  impossible 
statement. 

Not  so  Philip. 

"What?"  he  cried.  "He  still  says  that  he  didn't 
shoot  Mally.  Then  how  .  .  .  who  .  .  .  ?" 


THE  CROSS  335 


It  was  Margaret  who  answered,  excitedly,  "Yes, 
he  swears  that  he  did  not  and  that  someone  must 
have  taken  his  rifle.  Oh,  Phil,  could  any  other  of  our 
boys  have  done  it?  They  were  all  nearly  as  angry 
as  Rose  said  that  he  was,  and  several  hated  Malvary, 
anyway,  he  was  so  hot  tempered.  If  one  did,  it  would 
be  almost  as  terrible." 

Rose  turned  suddenly  from  Camille.  The  declara- 
tion of  Virgil's  avowed  innocence  had  finally  flooded 
her  heart  with  the  sunlight  of  a  great  happiness, 
over  which  this  further  suggestion  cast  a  dimming 
cloud. 

"What  did  he  say?"  she  begged,  as,  in  the  now 
almost  complete  darkness,  they  started  to  climb  the 
hill,  leaving  Billy  Boy  to  lead  the  mules  to  the  bam. 

"He  told  us  that  he  stayed  in  the  cottage  only  a 
few  minutes,  for  he  thought  that  he  should  go  mad, 
cooped  up  there,"  answered  Margaret.  "He  had  to 
get  away,  and  walk  as  hard  as  he  could." 

"I  can  understand.    Poor  boy,"  Rose  whispered. 

"At  first  he  went  blindly,  with  no  idea  of  his  di- 
rection; but,  after  a  while,  he  began  to  think  more 
sanely;  the  light  came  to  him  and  he  knew  that  you 
were  right.  By  this  time  he  was  half  way  up  the 
mountain  and,  as  he  looked  towards  the  top,  he  saw 
the  broken  rock  where  the  cave  is — the  one  where 
we  go  picnicking,  you  know — and  something  seemed 
to  tell  him  that  Mally  was  hiding  there.  Virgil  went 
on,  straight  towards  it;  but  he  swears  that  he  was 
unarmed  and  merely  intended  to  tell  him  that  Omie 


336 SMILING  PASS 

wasn't  dead,  and  that  he  could  return  home.  He 
didn't  pretend  that  he  had  forgiven  him,  but  he 
meant  to  be  just,  and  let  him  get  his  things  and 
leave,  unmolested. 

"He  said  that  he  had  almost  reached  the  top, 
and  was  going  pretty  slowly,  for  it  is  very  rocky 
there,  and  filled  with  big  crevasses,  when  he  heard 
the  .  .  .  the  shooting  above  him.  He  ran  as  fast 
as  he  could,  frightened,  just  as  we  were,  and  reached 
the  spot  where  Malvary  lay,  only  a  minute  or  two 
before  Bill  Cress  and  Tobias  got  there.  Mally  was 
dead,  poor  boy,  and  Virgie  had  just  started  to  look 
about  for  the  one  who  had  killed  him,  when  he  caught 
sight  of  a  rifle,  lying  under  a  bush.  He  picked  it  up 
— and  realized  that  it  was  his  own. 

"He  was  completely  dazed  by  the  shock,  and  the 
thought  of  what  it  would  be  thought  to  mean,  that 
he  could  hardly  answer  the  two  men  at  all,  when 
they  appeared  and  caught  hold  of  him." 

"But,  in  the  name  of  heaven,  didn't  he  make  them 
search  for  the  real  murderer?"  broke  in  Philip. 

"Yes.  At  least  he  insisted  that  Bill  do  so— Billy 
had  placed  him  under  arrest  and  ordered  the  other 
men  in  the  posse  to  start  down  with  Mally  at  once, 
for  some  of  them  thought  that  the  boy  might  not  be 
dead,  after  all.  Bill  didn't  believe  him,  then,  although 
I  think  that  he  must,  now,  for  he  left  Virgil  alone  in 
the  boarding-house  .  .  . " 

"  'The  boarding-house'  ? "  echoed  Rose  in  be- 
wilderment. 


THE  CROSS  337 


Margaret  explained,  and  then  went  on.  "They 
searched  for  several  minutes,  but  found  no  one,  and 
the  only  traces  left — broken  branches  and  things 
like  that,  I  suppose — might  have  been  made  by 
Virgil,  as  well  as  another,  of  course." 

"Thank  God,  thank  God  that  it  was  not  he!" 
breathed  the  other.  "  Oh,  Camille,  I  am  so  glad  .  .  . 
for  you,  dearest." 

No  answer  came  out  of  the  darkness,  and  she  cried, 
"Why,  where  is  Camille?" 

The  girl  was  no  longer  with  them.  In  the  envelop- 
ing shadows  she  had  stolen  away,  run  quickly  across 
the  little  bridge,  and  entered  the  Gayheart's  cabin. 

And  now,  still  in  the  darkness,  she  was  kneeling 
beside  Virgil's  bed,  clasping  something  tightly  against 
her  breast. 

"I  have  no  right,  now,  to  accept  your  love,  dear 
heart,"  Virgil  had  said  at  noonday,  tasting  the  bit- 
ter-sweet of  her  frank  confession  at  a  time  when  the 
most  terrible  of  accusations  hung,  like  a  sword  of 
Damacles,  over  his  head.  And  she  had  answered 
with  the  same  spirit  which  had  inspired  her  king, 
six  years  before,  to  choose  the  path  of  honor,  regard- 
less of  the  dangers  and  the  griefs  by  which  it  was 
beset.  She  would  not  compromise  with  Fate,  but, 
side  by  side  with  him,  would  face  what  it  had  in  store, 
be  it  shadow  or  sunshine. 

Her  love  had  broken  down  the  barrier  of  his  deter- 
mination for  a  moment,  and  he  had  caught  her  in 


338  SMILING  PASS 

his  arms,  murmuring  almost  incoherent  phrases  of 
pain  and  happiness.  Then  "he  had  loosed  her,  crying, 
"It  is  not  right.  I  will  not  have  it  so,  now." 

"Now,  more  than  ever  is  it  right,  Virgie,"  Camille 
had  answered.  "For  what  is  love  if  it  has  not  within 
it  faith  to  believe  and  courage  to  endure?  And  love 
is  doubled  by  being  shared.  You  would  not  refuse 
me  this,  without  which  my  world  would  be  empty 
of  all  things,  mon  aime?" 

She  had  conquered,  at  length,  and  left  him  filled 
with  a  great  happiness  which  banished  fear.  But 
before  she  went  he  had  said  earnestly,  "You  know 
I  have  no  ring  to  give  you  as  a  pledge,  Camille,  and 
we  should  not  even  think  of  being  engaged — yet. 
But  there  is  one  thing  which  I  value  more,  I  think, 
than  anything  else  I  own,  because  it  stands  for  some- 
thing that  I — I  told  you  and  Rose  and  Donald  about 
on  the  first  night  that  I  knew,  and  loved  you.  I 
want  you  to  have  and  keep  it,  always.  I  shall  not 
tell  you  what  it  is  but,  although  you  have  never  seen 
it  you  will  know  it,  and  understand.  It  is  in  a  little 
box  in  the  top  drawer  of  my  dresser." 

She  held  it,  now,  tightly  clasped  against  her  breast, 
his  croix  de  guerre,  for  valor  on  the  day  when  he  re- 
ceived the  second  wound,  which  expiated  the  first. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  CLOUDBURST 

THE  sleep  of  exhaustion  bound  all  save  one  of  the 
dwellers  in  Smiling  Pass  that  night,  but  Rose  scarcely 
closed  her  eyes.  Fatigued  as  she  was  of  body  and 
mind,  the  multitudinous  anxieties  of  the  moment, 
and  problems  to  be  faced  on  the  morrow,  which 
beset  her,  would  not  cease  from  troubling  and  give 
the  weary  rest.  Hour  after  hour  she  lay  by  Donald's 
side,  staring  wide-eyed  into  the  darkness  and  not 
daring  so  much  as  to  move,  lest  she  disturb  him, 
although  her  every  nerve  was  on  edge. 

Soon  after  nightfall  the  rain  had  begun  again,  and 
all  through  the  dragging  hours  she  listened  to  its 
alternate  patter  and  pounding  assault  upon  the  low 
roof,  and  to  the  ever-increasing  sound  of  the  creek 
below,  as  it  gathered  volume  and  power. 

And  over  and  over  again  the  same  questions 
presented  themselves,  clamoring  for  answer,  only 
to  be  momentarily  banished,  unsatisfied.  Was  Vir- 
gil really  innocent,  after  all;  and,  if  so,  could  his 
innocence  be  established  in  the  face  of  the  damning 
evidence  against  him?  And,  if  not  he,  who  was 
guilty?  Surely  not  one  of  their  own  boys;  they  had 
all  been  accounted  for.  An  outsider,  perhaps?  Some- 
339 


340 SMILING  PASS 

one  with  whom  the  impulsive  Malvary  had  started 
a  personal  feud,  and  who  had  stolen  Virgil's  rifle 
in  order  that  its  distinctive  bullets  might  lead  the 
authorities  off  upon  a  false  trail?  If  that  were  true 
Omie's  tragedy  might  have  nothing  whatever  to  do 
with  the  boy's  death.  There  was  a  grain  of  com- 
fort in  the  thought! 

Rose  dismissed  this  train  of  thought  only  to  begin 
on  another,  equally  distressing.  Would  they,  col- 
lectively, be  blamed  for  what  had  happened,  and 
their  double  misfortune  materially  set  back  the  work 
of  the  school,  or  destroy  its  value  altogether?  It  was 
wholly  possible.  Other  unfortunate  incidents,  over 
which  they  had  had  no  more  control,  had  seriously 
hurt  their  cause. 

Then  John  Hunter  rose  like  a  specter  to  trouble 
her  mind.  Had  remorse  caused  him  to  flee  her  face 
altogether?  Supposing  he  should  never  return,  what 
would  people  think — what  would  Donald  say — 
and  ask?  Must  she  go  on,  living  the  lie  which  she 
had  told  Philip — venial  as  it  was?  Rose  shuddered. 
These,  and  a  hundred  other  troublesome  thoughts, 
trod  upon  each  other  in  continual  procession  through 
her  aching  brain. 

Dawn  brought  a  temporary  clearing  in  the  weather 
and  the  threads  of  everyday  life  were  picked  up, 
one  by  one.  Breakfast  was  prepared  and  eaten; 
Camille  resumed  her  work  with  the  older  girls  in  the 
weaving  room;  Margaret  rode  off  to  the  new  school- 


THE  CLOUDBURST  341 

house,  where  she  and  Noey  Scytha  jointly  presided, 
surrounded  by  her  paddling  flock  of  little  boys; 
Philip  devoted  himself  to  the  sick  girl  and  the  sick 
man  in  turn,  and  Rose  was  overwhelmed  with  her 
own  duties  and  the  general  supervision  of  the  es~ 
tablishment — a  task  which  normally  kept  Virgil  on 
the  jump — in  addition. 

At  ten  o'clock  the  sun  burst  radiantly  forth  from 
the  clouds  and  Donald  acceded  to  the  suggestion 
of  his  brother-in-law  that  he  have  his  chair  placed 
upon  the  porch.  Junior  went  out,  too,  and  straight- 
way began  to  race  up  and  down  the  long  veranda  as 
merrily  as  though  there  had  never  been  such  a  thing 
as  illness  in  her  world.  Her  father  watched  her  at 
her  play,  with  the  first  smile  of  many  hours  upon  his 
drawn  countenance. 

At  last  Philip  stepped  out  of  the  little  hospital 
doorway,  intercepted  her  in  the  middle  of  one  of  her 
pattering  excursions,  and  tossed  her  at  arms  length 
into  the  air,  exclaiming,  "Here,  you  little  skallawag, 
do  you  want  me  to  put  you  back  to  bed  again  to  stop 
you  from  catching  pneumonia  on  those  wet  boards?  " 

"What's  a  pneumonia?  I  don't  see  any,  Uncle 
Phil,"  she  answered,  squirming  in  the  air  and  looking 
down  at  the  piazza,  for  something,  she  knew  not  what. 

"You  don't  see  it,  you  feel  it  ...  here,  in  your 
little  insides."  He  prodded  her  plump  little  chest. 

"But  muwer  said  I  was  insidedly  better  this 
morning,"  she  protested,  and  Donald  smiled  again, 
wanely. 


342 SMILING  PASS 

"I  guess  you  are  ...  insidedly.  How  would 
you  like  to  have  me  throw  you  'way  down  there,  and 
into  the  creek?"  he  demanded,  swinging  her  legs 
out  over  the  railing. 

"It's  big,  isn't  it?  Is  the  ocean  bigger'n  that?" 
Little  Rose  loved  to  hear  stories  of  her  mother's 
trip  across  the  Atlantic,  but  her  conception  of  its 
size  was  decidedly  vague. 

"Let's  see.  Yes,  at  least  twice  as  big,"  seriously 
responded  her  uncle,  and  Donald  interjected,  "Care- 
ful, Phil.  Little  pitchers  have  long  memories,  as 
well  as  big  ears,  and  when  she  sees  the  real  thing  you 
may  lose  your  reputation  for  veracity." 

"Right-o.  It  has  come  up  astonishingly,  hasn't 
it?"  he  added,  regarding  the  turbulent,  muddy 
stream,  which,  the  day  before,  had  been  little  more 
than  a  brooklet,  and  was  now  rushing  along  almost 
up  to  the  top  of  its  banks  and  twenty  feet  wide. 

"If  you  think  so,  you  should  stay  here  until  a 
couple  of  months  from  now,  and  see  it  during  a  real 
cloudburst.  The  sky  just  opens  and  lets  down  a 
deluge  sometimes,  and  these  mountains  are  so  steep 
and  close  together  that  the  water  simply  streams 
into  the  valleys  from  both  sides,  and  the  creeks 
rise,  from  almost  nothing  at  all,  to  three,  and  even 
four  feet  deep  in  next  to  no  tim'e.  Rattlesnake  and 
Coon  both  feed  into  Beaten,  and  it  simply  goes  mad 
temporarily.  We've  several  times  seen  pigs  and 
lambs,  and  once  a  half-grown  calf,  brought  down 
by  it." 


THE  CLOUDBURST  343 

"It  was  dwonded,  poor  thing,"  explained  Junior, 
adding  more  brightly,  "I  had  a  little  calf  last  summer, 
when  I  was  a  baby.  But  he  growed  up  into  a  caow." 

Certain  words,  which  she  heard  the  natives  speak 
more  often  than  members  of  her  family,  she  invari- 
ably pronounced  in  mountain  fashion,  nor  could 
they  break  her  of  it. 

"You  don't  say!"  said  Philip,  and  Donald — who 
had  hardly  heard  the  child's  interruption — answered, 
"It's  a  fact,  and  occasionally  'a  tide' — as  they  call 
it — will  occur  before  there  is  a  sign  of  rain  here,  if 
there  is  a  local  cloudburst  somewhere  up-stream. 
You  can  actually  see  the  wall  of  water  coming  down 
like  a  miniature  tidal  wave.  Humpty  Kite  told  us 
about  it  in  rather  picturesque  phraseology  when  we 
first  came,  and  before  we  had  personally  made  the 
acquaintance  of  one.  Said  he,  'When  one  uv  them 
thar  claoud-bursts  cums,  this  creek  rises  three  foot 
in  an  hour,  does  hits  do,  and  in  no  time  hit's  jest  a 
leetle  trickle  again'.  " 

"Which  air  a  fact,"  agreed  Rose,  smiling,  as  she 
joined  them  after  correcting  a  page  of  pamphlet 
proof  in  the  printing-ofiice,  and  she  added,  "I've 
got  to  run  over  and  see  Mrs.  Gayheart  about  what 
to  order  from  Judd's  store  for  dinner.  Do  you  want 
to  come  with  mother,  dear?" 

"Yes.  I  want  to  go  play  with  Virgie,"  promptly 
responded  the  child,  for  never  was  she  happier  than 
when  romping  with  the  man  who  was  no  longer 
there. 


344  SMILING  PASS 

The  shadow  returned  to  the  faces  of  the  others  and 
her  mother  answered,  sadly,  "Your  Virgie  is  away, 
today,  darling.  Wasn't  it  like  him  to  refuse  to  have 
us  go  bail  for  him,  Don?  With  the  Grand  Jury  in 
session  now,  we  may  hear  .  .  .  tonight,  whether 
he  is  going  to  be  held  for  trial.  Oh,  dear." 

"There's  no  question  about  it,"  answered  Philip. 
"They  can  hardly  help  bringing  in  anything  but  a 
'true  bill.'  Lawyer  Combs  is  coming  up  here  this 
afternoon,  isn't  he?" 

"Yes.  You  knew  that  Judd  went  down  with  the 
jolt  wagon  this  morning,  taking  Bud  and  Tobias 
and  two  of  the  other  members  of  the  posse,  didn't 
you?  Of  course  Bill  Cress  stayed  there  all  night." 

Philip  nodded.  "It  looks  black  for  the  boy,  but 
Margaret  says  that  she  is  sure  he  was  telling  the 
truth  when  he  described  to  them  how  he  happened 
to  be  in  such  an  absolutely  damning  position,  and 
that's  good  enough  for  me." 

His  sister  gave  him  a  quick  glance,  but  he  was 
too  much  engrossed  in  his  thoughts  to  notice  it,  and 
went  on,  "The  attorney  may  have  some  line  of  de- 
fence in  mind,  when  he  comes." 

"Oh,  I  hope  so!  I  scarcely  think  of  anything  else 
and  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  a  single  ray  of  light. 
So  many  different  ones  heard  him  swear  that  he 
was  going  to  find  and  kill  poor  Mally,  only  a  little 
more  than  an  hour  before  it  ...  it  happened; 
and  then  for  him  to  have  been  found  where  he  was, 
and  holding  that  rifle  .  .  .  !" 


THE  CLOUDBURST  345 

"Try  not  to  think  of  it.  It  is  just  as  true  in  every- 
day life,  as  in  plays  and  books,  that  circumstantial 
evidence,  which  seems  to  be  just  as  conclusive  as  that, 
often  falls  to  pieces,  at  the  last  moment." 

"I  know.  We  must  hope  and  pray  that  it  will, 
this  time — yes,  and  work  for  that  end,  just  as  soon 
as  Mr.  Combs  comes  and  gives  us  a  line  to  work  on." 

"Of  course." 

"I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes.  Come,  Junie,  we 
must  hurry — run.  It  looks  as  though  it  were  getting 
ready  to  rain  again.  Kiss  daddy,  dear.  Be  careful, 
honey,  you  musn't  hit  his  poor,  sore  leg." 

"Why  does  you  always  have  a  poor,  sore  leg, 
daddy?"  inquired  the  baby,  with  her  arms  clasped 
tightly  around  his  neck  and  her  cheek  against  his. 
"I  failed  down  and  made  my  knee  all  bluggy,  once, 
but  it  was  all  well,  tomorrow." 

"And  perhaps  daddy's  will  be,  soon,"  answered 
her  mother,  with  a  forced  smile  and  a  futile  attempt 
to  make  her  tone  sound  convincing. 

She  bent  and  lightly  kissed  her  husband's  fore- 
head, twice,  despite  his  unresponsiveness,  and  left 
him,  tense  and  silent.  Hand  in  hand  the  two  ran 
down  the  veranda  steps  and  the  hillside  path.  They 
paused  an  instant  on  the  little  bridge,  to  turn  and 
wave — Philip  acknowledging  their  salute — and  then 
ran  on  and  into  the  Gayheart  cottage. 

"Phil!"  demanded  Donald  suddenly.  "Has 
.  .  .  has  Rose  .  .  .changed,  or  is  the  trouble  all 
with  me?" 


346  SMILING  PASS 

"It's  all  with  you,  old  man."  The  other  spoke 
quietly;  but  his  voice  was  not  without  sympathy. 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  Phil.  Night  before  last 
.  .  .  Never  mind,  I  have  no  right  to  speak  of  it." 

"Donald,  has  anything  gone  wrong?  Tell  me; 
perhaps  I  can  .  .  .  Wait  a  minute.  Omie's  calling, 
but  I'll  be  right  back." 

He  hurried  into  the  little  hospital,  leaving  the  other 
man  alone  with  his  cheerless  thoughts  and  the  new 
problem.  Should  he  tell  Rose's  brother  what  he  had 
seen? 

Before  Philip  was  free  to  return  it  had  begun  to 
sprinkle,  and  Donald  got  painfully  to  his  feet  and, 
leaning  upon  his  stout  cane,  limped  into  the  house, 
where  he  resumed  his  cushioned  chair  at  the  front 
window  of  the  office,  so  that  he  could  watch  for  the 
return  of  his  baby. 

"Rose  should  have  had  more  sense  than  to  have 
taken  her  even  that  little  distance,"  he  thought,  with 
growing  irritation.  "They  will  get  drenched,  and 
perhaps  Junior,  her  powers  of  resistance  lowered  by 
her  Illness,  will  take  cold  and  be  sick  again." 

He  looked  out  anxiously  to  see  if  they  were  in  sight. 
Already  the  whole  heavens  to  the  southwest  were 
covered  by  a  dense  black  cloud  which  was,  with 
surprising  rapidity,  driving  up  the  valley  between 
the  mountain  peaks  as  through  a  funnel.  An  un- 
natural darkness  was  descending,  oppressively. 
Through  it  came  the  sound  of  rushing  wind,  and  he 
could  see  the  rain  advancing  in  almost  a  solid  sheet, 


THE  CLOUDBURST  347 

like  a  moving  gray  curtain.    Why  didn't  they  come? 

Then  there  fell  on  his  ears  another  sound — a  dull 
roar  from  the  head  of  the  creek,  and  the  waters  below 
him  seemed  to  swell,  leap  more  tumultuously  and 
sweep  forward  faster  still.  It  was  altogether  too 
early  in  the  season  for  such  a  cloudburst  as  he  had 
described  to  Philip,  but  a  few  minutes  before;  yet 
one  was  occurring! 

The  wind  struck  the  house  with  such  force  that  it 
fairly  trembled,  but  the  rain  had  stopped  suddenly. 
Now,  in  the  dimmed  light,  he  saw  his  wife  appear 
in  the  cottage  doorway,  with  the  baby,  wrapped 
in  some  sort  of  garment,  in  her  arms.  She  paused 
there,  momentarily,  as  though  uncertain  whether 
or  not  to  attempt  to  cross  the  little  space  which 
separated  them  from  home.  She  started  to  run. 

Donald  leaned  forward  and  flung  the  window  up. 

"Go  back!'*  he  shouted,  wildly,  but  the  words 
were  caught  from  his  lips  by  the  clutching  fingers 
of  the  wind  and  hurled  away,  down  the  valley.  At 
the  same  instant  the  tumbling  black  cloud — now 
directly  overhead — let  down  a  perfect  deluge  of  rain, 
and  the  swelling  waters  of  the  creek,  already  half- 
way up  the  frail  supports  of  the  little  bridge,  struck 
it  anew  with  mad  fury.  Rose  had  reached  the  middle 
of  it,  and  there  the  force  of  wind  and  rain  fairly 
pinned  her  against  the  leaward  railing,  while  the 
narrow  planks  on  which  she  stood  trembled  and 
swayed  as  though  the  whole  were  on  the  point  of 
being  swept  away  from  beneath  her. 


348 SMILING  PASS 

For  the  fraction  of  a  second  Donald  was  utterly 
paralyzed  by  fear.  Was  the  bridge  going  to  collapse, 
as  it  had  once  before  under  like  conditions,  and 
hurl  his  loved  ones  into  that  rushing  torrent? 

To  only  a  few  men  in  a  generation  come  moments 
like  that,  and  then  the  brain  is  either  rendered  in- 
capable of  acting,  or  made  to  work  with  incredible 
rapidity.  In  Donald's  case  it  was  the  latter,  and  his 
mind  registered  simultaneously  two  ideas.  He  saw 
the  picture  before  his  eyes  and  knew  the  des- 
perate need  of  immediate  action;  but,  at  the  same 
time,  he  saw  in  a  vision  another  scene  whose  setting 
was  different  from,  yet  strangely  coincident  in  many 
respects  with,  the  one  upon  which  he  was  gazing. 
Memory  had  leaped  back  over  a  span  of  four  years. 
In  a  single  flash  of  recollection  he  saw  Rose — the 
girl  he  loved,  apparently  in  vain — upon  a  little  pier 
about  which  the  waves  of  the  North  Atlantic  were 
dashing,  and,  in  the  black  waters  beneath  her,  the 
head  of  another  child.  He  saw  her  leap  into  the  flood. 
He  saw  himself,  bound  in  the  grip  of  fell  circum- 
stance, just  as  he  was  now,  witnessing  it  all  by  the 
lightning's  vivid  glare,  yet  helpless  to  aid.  He  saw 
another  man,  one  who  also  loved  her.  spring  down 
the  steep  shore  to  rescue  her  from  death. 

It  was  all  in  an  instant,  and  then  he  realized  that 
now,  as  then,  another  had  appeared  to  save  her. 
And  it  was  the  same  man! 

Philip  had  leaped  from  the  doorway  of  the  little 
hospital  and  the  force  of  the  wind  had  caught,  and 


THE  CLOUDBURST  349 

pinned  his  slender  form  momentarily  against  the  wall. 

"God!  He  cannot  do  it  again!"  Donald  cried 
aloud. 

At  such  rare  moments,  too,  the  human  will  is 
sometimes  vouchsafed  the  privilege  of  summoning 
to  itself  a  superhuman  power,  under  whose  impul- 
sion the  physical  being  performs  free  of  natural  re- 
straints. So  it  was,  now,  with  Donald. 

With  but  one  impulse  possessing  him  wholly,  he, 
who,  for  more  than  two  years,  had  not  even  walked 
without  a  cane  to  support  him,  sprang  from  his 
cushioned  chair  and  ran  out  into  the  storm.  He  was 
not  conscious  of  pain  or  weakness,  or  of  his  body  at 
all;  his  only  thought  was  that  his  wife  and  child  were 
in  danger,  and  he  must  reach  them,  instantly. 

Philip  was  now  running  down  the  steps,  but  Don< 
aid  leaped  past  him. 

The  necessity  of  opening  the  gate  at  the  foot  of 
the  sharp  descent  checked  his  course,  but  only  for 
a  second.  Now  he  was  at  the  end  of  the  trembling, 
yielding  bridge;  on  it;  he  had  torn  the  baby  from 
Rose's  frantic  clasp  and,  clutching  her  arm,  dragged 
them  both  back  to  the  bank. 

The  other  man  was  beside  him,  half-supporting  the 
woman  whose  drenched  and  wind-whipped  skirt  so 
wound  itself  about  her  legs  that  she  could  scarcely 
stand.  Some  of  the  older  boys  were  racing  towards 
them,  eager  to  help,  if  they  could.  To  the  first  to 
arrive  Donald  held  out  the  baby,  blindly,  for  it 
seemed  to  him  that  a  stream  of  liquid  fire  had  been 


350 SMILING  PASS 

poured  into  the  veins  of  his  right  leg,  consuming  it, 
turning  it  to  ashes.  He  pitched  forward  into  black 
oblivion. 

When  he  returned  to  consciousness,  Donald  vague- 
ly realized  that  he  was  lying  on  a  narrow  hos- 
pital cot  and  that  his  leg  was  aching  violently,  yet 
the  pain  was  not  like  that  which  he  had  suffered  and 
borne  for  many  months.  He  had  felt  its  like  before, 
however,  and  for  a  brief  instant  thought  that  he  was 
back  in  the  Stillman  infirmary  at  Harvard,  whither 
he  had  been  carried  from  the  football  field,  after 
having  been  pulled,  unconscious,  from  the  bottom 
of  a  melee,  with  his  leg  twisted  so  violently  that  many 
ligaments  had  been  torn  asunder  within  his  thigh. 

Donald  opened  his  eyes  "and  started,  upon  seeing 
Omie,  pale  and  frightened,  lying  on  a  cot  close  be- 
side his.  He  closed  them  again,  but  the  present 
flowed  back  with  the  sound  of  his  wife's  voice,  speak- 
ing excitedly  at  the  other  side  of  his  bed. 

"How  did  he  do  it?  How  did  he  ever  manage  to 
do  it,  Phil?"  she  was  crying. 

"God  only  knows.  I  suppose  that  the  call  of  the 
moment  overcame  his  weakness  and  .  .  .  Good, 
he's  coming  to.  How  do  you  feel,  old  man?" 

"All  ...  all  right,  thanks." 

Suddenly  he  demanded,  "Did  the  bridge  go?" 

"You  bet  it  did — about  ten  seconds  after  you  got  off 
it.  Every  damned  stick!  I  tell  you,  that  was  a  close 
call,  Don.  Dam  your  hide,  how  did  you  ever  ..." 


THE  CLOUDBURST  351 

Rose  slipped  in  front  of  Philip  and  clasped  one  of 
her  husband's  hands  feverishly. 

"Dearest,  are  you  in  terrible  pain?  I'm  just  heart- 
broken, for  it  was  my  fault.  I  shouldn't  have  started," 
she  exclaimed.  Her  lips  were  trembling,  and,  although 
her  light  garments  were  drenched  and  clinging  to  her 
form,  and  water  was  dripping  from  her  hair,  she 
looked  so  utterly  sweet  and  appealing  that  Donald's 
heart  swelled  with  a  love,  a  craving  for  her  which  was 
actually  painful.  The  one  word  whose  utterance 
might  have  driven  away  all  intervening  doubts  was 
on  his  lips;  but  the  hand  of  the  specter  thing  pressed 
it  back  and  he  answered  by  demanding,  "Where  is 
Junie?" 

"At  home.  Camille  is  changing  her  clothes.  She 
is  all  right,  but  you,  Don — how  do  you  feel?  " 

"As  though  I  had  had  my  leg  pulled."  *He  gave  a 
twisted  smile. 

"Philip!   Do  you  suppose  .    .    .?" 

"I  shouldn't  be  surprised  in  the  least.  The  nerve 
most  certainly  got  a  sufficiently  violent  stretching  to 
kill  or  cure,  and  Mother  Nature  may  have  performed 
that  last  resort  operation  for  him — free  of  charge. 
Don,  if  it  turns  out  to  be  a  fact,  all  I've  got  to  say  is 
that  you're  a  lucky  devil." 

"I  half  believe  .  .  .  that  you're  right,"  gasped 
the  sufferer,  clinching  his  teeth  to  hold  back  a  groan. 
"There  is  pain  enough,  Heaven  knows;  but  it  ... 
it  isn't  'neuralgic  in  the  least.  I  feel  as-  though  that 
cursed  sciatic  nerve  had  simply  been  ripped  to  pieces 


352 SMILING  PASS 

— as  I've  wished,  plenty  of  times,  that  it  might  be." 
Rose  fell  to  her  knees  beside  the  bed,  "Oh,  my 
husband!"  she  cried.  "If  it's  true — if  it  only  is  true! 
And  I  believe  it.  Something  told  me  from  the  start 
that  these  mountains  held  your  cure,  although  I  did 
not  think  that  it  would  come  this  way.  'I  will  lift 
mine  eyes  unto  the  hills,  from  whence  cometh  my 
help.  My  help  cometh  from  the  Lord,  which  hath 
made  heaven  and  earth',  "  she  quoted  tearfully.  Then 
she  buried  her  tear-stained  face  in  the  breast  of  his 
rain-soaked  coat. 

Hesitatingly,   Donald   reached   out  his   arm   and 
drew  it  closer  and  closer  about  her  shaking  form. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

CLEARING 

BY  mid-afternoon  the  sky  was  cloudless  and  the 
sun  blazing  gloriously  down  upon  a  shining  world, 
strewn  with  branches  and  blossoms,  as  though  for 
a  fete.  The  raging  waters  of  the  creek  had  subsided, 
if  not  to  "jest  a  leetle  trickle,"  at  least  to  their  ordi- 
nary springtime  dimensions,  and  the  only  lasting  vi- 
sible evidence  of  the  morning's  drama  was  the  demol- 
ished bridge.  But  a  few  slender  uprights,  with  pieces 
of  plank  clinging  to  them,  now  remained  to  mark 
the  spot  where  Rose  had  stood. 

Donald  had  been  moved  to  his  own  bed  in  the 
House  of  Happiness,  and  he  lay  there  with  a  great 
content  slowly  settling  upon  his  soul.  In  the  bright- 
ness of  the  day,  and  the  sudden  relief  from  the  mad- 
dening pain  whose  gnawing  and  burning  he  had  suf- 
fered for  so  long  in  silence,  the  cloud  was  slowly 
passing  from  his  heart.  Rose  did  love  him;  his  black 
suspicion  had  been  but  an  evil  fantasy  born  of  a 
brain  deranged  by  illness.  He  would  not  even  mention 
to  her  what  he  had  seen  in  the  moonlight.  She  might 
tell  him  about  it,  if  she  would;  but,  if  she  did  not,  it 
should  make  no  difference.  The  explanation  was  now 
as  clear  as  the  day,  and  John's  continued  absence, 
353 


354  SMILING  PASS 

which  jealousy  had  kept  him  from  so  much  as  com- 
menting upon,  established  it.  He  had  his  own  amends 
to  make  to  his  wife;  but  they  might  be  in  general 
terms  and  she  be  spared  from  the  grief  of  realizing 
that  he  had  suspected  her  of  such  an  unthinkable 
thing  as  infidelity.  He  was  still  in  pain,  agonizing 
pain  in  his  thigh  and  leg,  when  he  moved,  but  so  long 
as  he  lay  still  he  experienced  a  blessed  freedom  from 
the  kind  of  anguish  which  had  been  his  for  so  long. 
He  need  lie  no  longer  with  nerves  on  edge,  wait- 
ing for  the  next  neuralgic  knife-thrust  from  hip  to  toe. 

And  others  rejoiced  with  him.  Although  a  heavy 
cloud  still  overhung  those  who  dwelt  in  Smiling  Pass, 
a  new  happiness  was  theirs.  Another  and  more 
terrible  tragedy  had  been  averted  that  morning,  and 
their  doctor,  beloved  by  many  and  respected  by  all, 
despite  his  frequent  periods  of  moroseness,  was  going 
to  get  well.  Smiles  herself  had  told  them  so,  and 
her  word  was  their  law  and  their  gospel. 

The  day  grew  hotter  and  hotter  and,  when  they  had 
returned  from  the  afternoon  session  at  school,  the 
little  boys  used  that  fact  as  an  argument  in  inveig- 
ling from  Margaret  permission  to  go  barefooted  for 
the  first  time  that  year.  She  yielded,  with  misgiv- 
ings— for  it  meant  a  crop  of  new  bumps  and  bruises 
for  Rose  to  tend — and  a  moment  later  the  benches 
beside  the  playground  were  decorated  with  twenty 
pairs  of  shoes  and  stockings — some  of  them  the 
first  "boughten"  ones  their  owners  had  ever  had — , 
and  the  boys  were  loudly  rejoicing  in  the  new  freedom. 


CLEARING  355 


Virgil's  dog,  "Marshal  Foch,"  who  had  moped 
dejectedly  ever  since  the  strange  disappearance  of 
his  master,  began  to  respond  to  the  general  eleva- 
tion of  spirits  and,  after  tearing  around  with  the 
children  for  a  time,  started  up  the  mountainside, 
barking  madly. 

"He's  after  a  rabbit!  Kan  I  go,  Margaret?"  de- 
manded Billy  Boy,  in  excitement.  An  instant  later, 
they  could  see  a  white  streak — which  was  bunny — 
flash  through  a  little  clearing  among  the  underbrush, 
with  the  dog's  tawny  body  stretched  close  to  the 
ground  in  pursuit.  His  barking  grew  fainter  and 
fainter  until  it  was  almost  inaudible;  but  it  seemed 
now  to  come  from  a  fixed  spot. 

"Billy,  remember  that  a  Scout  doesn't  give  pain 
needlessly  and  protects  the  harmless  creatures!  Yes, 
you  may  go,  dear,  for  I  think  that  the  Marshal  has 
chased  the  poor  little  thing  into  its  burrow  and  is 
trying  to  dig  it  out.  Run,  Billy  Boy,  and  stop  him." 

Delighted  with  the  commission,  the  child  sped  up 
the  hillside  and  Margaret  watched  him  disappear 
with  a  smile  of  maternal  affection  in  her  eyes.  Philip, 
standing  in  the  doorway,  unobserved,  saw  it  and  his 
heart-beat  quickened. 

The  boy  was  gone  for  perhaps  twenty  minutes, 
during  which  time  Margaret  remained  on  the  ver- 
anda, waiting — and  dreaming.  She  had  been  almost 
as  terrified  by  the  story  of  what  had  happened  dur- 
ing the  morning  as  though  she  had  actually  been  a 
a  witness  to  it,  but  now  the  sun  was  so  bright,  the 


356 SMILING  PASS 

world  so  lovely,  that  it  seemed  as  though  it  must 
be  a  happy  omen,  presaging  fair  weather  in  their  own 
lives.  She  heard  the  sound  of  breaking  branches 
on  the  steep  hillside  above  and  raised  her  eyes,  to 
behold  Billy  returning,  with  the  truant  dog.  She 
smiled  and  waved,  but  he  did  not  respond,  and  a 
moment  later  he  was  near  enough  so  that  she  could 
see  his  face,  which  appeared  peculiarly  pale  and  fright- 
ened. He  was  running  almost  blindly,  too,  paying  no 
heed  to  impeding  bushes  and  boulders,  over  which  he 
stumbled.  And  his  feet  and  legs  were  bleeding! "  Could 
something  have  terrified  him,  a  rattlesnake,  perhaps?  " 
she  thought.  The  Marshal  often  gave  them  battle. 

She  ran  up  the  hill  to  meet  him,  and  the  boy, 
panting,  flung  himself  into  her  outstretched  arms. 
For  a  moment  he  was  unable  to  reply  to  her  anxious 
inquiries.  Then  he  gasped  out  in  a  trembling  voice, 
"Oh,  Margaret!  I  found  .  .  .  Marshal  found  a 
man  up  thar.  He  was  layin'  in  the  bushes  and  he's 
all  covered  with  blood — I  reckon  thet  he's  dead." 

Her  heart  stopped  beating.  Another  tragedy! 
Another  man,  killed  almost  at  their  very  doors! 

"No,  no,  Billy!  Are  you  sure?" 

He  nodded,  gulping. 

"Oh,  where  is  he?  Could  you  find  him  again, 
Billy?  "  she  demanded,  in  a  voice  which  sounded  faint 
and  strange  to  herself. 

"Yes.  I  reckon  I  could  .  .  .  ef  I  has  tew.  But 
I  don't  love  tew  go  up  thar  again,  Margaret,"  was 
his  sobbing  response. 


CLEARING  357 


Several  of  the  other  boys  had  run  up  to  join  them, 
already,  realizing  that  something  was  wrong.  Now 
they  burst  forth  into  excited  questionings.  The 
preliminary  bell  for  supper  was  ringing  on  the  porch 
below,  but  none  of  them  paid  any  attention  to  its 
summons. 

"Quick!  Run  and  call  Uncle  Phil,"  she  directed, 
and  then  added,  addressing  the  others,  "  Get  all  of  the 
bigger  boys,  and  Judd,  too — I  just  saw  him  driving 
in.  Tell  them  to  come  here  at  once — I  want  them. 
Tell  them  to  hurry!  And  don't  let  Rose  know  about 
this,"  she  called  in  final  command. 

But  Rose  heard,  nevertheless.  Such  news  as  this 
could  not  be  kept  secret.  And  after  she,  with  Mar- 
garet and  Camille,  had  prepared  a  cot  in  one  of  the 
little  hospital  rooms,  she  waited  with  harrowing  an- 
ticipations until  the  cortege,  led  back,  as  they  had 
been  led  up,  by  Billy  and  Marshal  Foch,  slowly 
appeared  from  the  edge  of  the  forest,  with  four  of 
them  bearing  a  motionless  form  as  gently  as  possi- 
ble. Then  she  ran  to  meet  them  and  accosted  her 
brother  with  the  uncompleted  question,  "Phil,  is 
it  ...  ?" 

He  nodded  in  telepathic  understanding.  "Yes. 
John  Hunter,  Rose." 

"Dead?"  There  were  horror  and  agony  alike  in 
her  whisper. 

"Not  quite.  Terribly  wounded,  though,  He  was 
delirious  when  we  found  him,  but  he's  fainted  or 
fallen  into  a  comatose  condition  now." 


358 SMILING  PASS 

He  drew  her  aside  and  she  gave  one  shuddering 
glance  at  the  inert  figure  which  the  boys  were  carry- 
ing past  her.  Then  she  swayed  towards  Philip,  clos- 
ing her  burning  eyes  and  pressing  her  face  for  an 
instant  hard  against  his  shoulder.  The  pitiful  spec- 
tacle was  almost  more  than  she,  for  all  her  multi- 
tude of  harrowing  experiences  in  France,  could  bear. 
For  the  man  who  had  been  her  friend  and  intimate 
co-worker  for  nearly  two  years  was,  indeed,  as  though 
dead,  his  face  the  color  of  parchment,  his  clothing 
stained  and  drenched,  and  disclosing  the  three  terri- 
ble gunshot  wounds. 

With  her  hand  clutching  Philip's,  she  fell  in  step 
behind  the  bearers  of  the  heavy  burden. 

"Phil,"  she  whispered  in  a  strained  voice.  "Do 
you  suppose  that  he  ...  that  Mally  .  .  .  ?" 

"That's  just  what  I've  been  thinking  and  I'm 
afraid  so,  though  God  knows  why.  We  haven't 
heard  any  other  shooting,  and  his  wounds  indicate 
that  he  was  shot  many  hours  ago." 

"But  almost  a  day  and  a  half,  Philip! 
Could  he  have  lived  that  long,  wounded  so 
terribly?" 

"It  is  hard  to  believe;  but  he  had  an  exceptional 
constitution  and  the  rain  probably  kept  him  alive 
— he  couldn't  have  lived  unless  he  had  had  water. 
What  gets  me,  though,  is  how  he  happened  to  be 
where  we  found  him,  if  what  we  suspect  is  true.  It's 
a  mile  or  more  to  the  other  peak  where  Malvary 
was,  and  John  couldn't  have  walked  a  step,  wounded 


CLEARING  359 


as  he  is.  Besides,  he  must  have  been  unconscious 
most  of  the  time." 

Rose's  tears  suddenly  overflowed.  "Perhaps  he 
didn't  do  it,  but  .  .  .  I'm  afraid  that  he  did,  and 
that  during  all  these  hours,  he  has  been  trying  to 
crawl  .  .  ,  home,  Philip." 

She  could  not  speak  again;  the  ache  in  her  heart 
and  the  choking  sensation  in  her  throat  were  too 
great. 

They  laid  John  gently  on  the  freshly  made  bed 
in  the  hospital  which  had  been  his  home,  and  he  al- 
most immediately  whispered  the  word,  "Water." 

Rose  poured  a  few  drops  between  his  parched 
lips  and  laved  his  feverish  face  with  the  cooling 
fluid,  whereupon  he  slowly  opened  his  eyes,  momen- 
tarily conscious  and  rational,  it  seemed.  He  did  not 
speak  again,  however,  while  Philip  was  cutting  away 
his  clothing  in  order  to  examine  his  wounds;  but 
his  eyes  followed  Rose  as  she  moved  swiftly  about, 
like  those  of  a  suffering  dog. 

"We've  got  to  give  him  a  strong  stimulant  at 
once,"  declared  Philip,  his  fingers  on  John's  pulse. 
"Is  there  any  whisky  in  the  dispensary?" 

"Not  a  drop.  We  had  a  little  for  just  such  emer- 
gencies, but  the  last  was  used  up  a  week  ago.  Judd, 
don't  you  know  where  you  can  get  us  some?"  de- 
manded Rose. 

"I  reckon  I  dew  .  .  .  moonshine,  fer  Bud  told 
me  whar  him  and  .  .  .  and  Mally  had  some  hid 


360  SMILING  PASS 

up  near  their  old  still,  but  ...  I  don't  guess  thet 
I'll  get  hit." 

"Judd!  What  are  you  saying?  We  need  it  to  save 
his  life!" 

"I  wants  tew  hear  him  say,  first,  thet  he  didn't 
hev  a  hand,  with  Virgil,  in  killin'  Mai  vary  Amos!" 
the  man  answered,  doggedly. 

There  was  an  instant  of  silence,  for  Rose  was  too 
shocked  to  answer  at  once.  It  was  ended  by  John 
Hunter  himself,  saying  in  a  scarcely  audible  whisper, 
"Virgil  didn't  kill  ...  him.  I  ...  did." 

"John!  Oh,  what  are  you  saying?  It  isn't  true. 
Never  mind,  don't  try  to  talk,  now."  Rose  turned 
to  Judd  and  cried,  "It  doesn't  make  any  difference, 
if  it  is  true.  We  must  save  his  life.  Oh,  hurry,  Judd! 
What  are  you  waiting  for?  You've  got  to  get  it, 
quick.  Judd,  would  you  be  a  .  .  .a  murderer,  too?  " 

"No.  I  don't  reckon  thet  I  can  dew  thet.  I  haint 
never  liked  him,  and  naow  he's  killed  one  uv  my 
own  blood,  but  .  .  .  No,  hit  don't  make  no  dif- 
ference. I've  been  fightin'  you-all,  Rose.  But  you're 
right.  I've  been  larnin',  too.  You've  stood  fer  me 
when  Gawd  knows  why  you  done  hit,  and  I'll  stick 
with  you,  naow.  Yes,  I'm  a-goin'.  " 

He  hurried  from  the  room,  and  she  gently  but 
firmly  drove  all  the  rest  of  the  silent,  curious  gather- 
ing outside,  with  the  exception  of  Philip  and  Cam- 
ille,  who  were  still  busy  dressing  John's  ugly  wounds. 

Then  she  returned  to  the  bedside  and,  despite 
her  own  command  that  the  injured  man  should  not 


CLEARING  361 


talk,  cried  out  in  deep  distress,  "Oh,  John!  Why 
.  .  .  why  did  you  do  it? " 

"Wait,  Rose.  He's  too  weak  to  talk  now.  Per- 
haps, bye  and  bye  ..."  began  Philip,  but  John 
moved  his  head  in  faint  contradiction  and  gasped, 
"There's  no  ...  'bye  and  bye'  ...  for  me. 
I'm  .  .  .  done  for." 

"No,  no,  John.  You'll  come  through.  You're  not 
going  to  die." 

Again  he  made  a  weak  gesture  of  negation.  "No, 
he  got  me  ...  too,"  he  answered  and  closed  his 
eyes.  With  a  pitying  touch  Rose  laid  her  hand  upon 
his  burning  forehead,  and  her  own  eyes  became 
misty. 

He  seemed  to  be  smiling  faintly.  For  a  little  while 
he  remained  silent,  scarcely  breathing,  and  twice 
she  bent  close  to  make  sure  that  his  heart  had  not 
actually  ceased  to  beat.  At  her  low  command  Camille 
brought  more  water  and  poured  a  little  between 
his  set  teeth.  Then  he  stirred  and  began  to  speak 
in  disjointed  whispered  words  which  were  scarcely 
more  than  rasping  breaths.  He  was  indeed  too  weak 
to  talk,  yet,  despite  his  suffering,  and  the  fact  that 
his  mental  concepts  were  becoming  more  and  more 
vague  and  illusive,  his  iron  will  was  still  in  command 
over  his  failing  faculties — and  he  had  a  message  to 
deliver.  There  were  many  long  hiatuses  in  the  sen- 
tences which  barely  passed  his  lips,  but  the  three 
who  bent  anxiously  above  him  could  fill  them  in  and 
guess  his  story. 


362 SMILING  PASS 

John's  first  words  were  a  broken  question.  "Virgil 
....  where  .  .  .  ?  Judd  said  ..." 

It  was  Philip  who  responded,  suddenly  deciding 
that,  if  the  man  were  to  talk,  a  shock  might  have  the 
effect  of  coordinating  his  wandering  thoughts  and 
bringing  him  sharply  back  to  the  present,  if  only 
for  a  moment.  After  all,  Virgil  must  be  saved. 

"He's  in  jail  .  .  .  accused  of  killing  Malvary. 
Do  you  understand,  John?  They  say  that  Virgil 
shot  him." 

"I  .  .  .  killed  him."  Again  came  the  unequi- 
vocable  assertion.  "Tell  them  .  .  .  Virgil  .  .  . 
innocent." 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  deep  sigh,  as  though 
from  a  heart  too  full  of  some  great  emotion  for 
words,  and  Camille  straightened  up  and  walked, 
swaying  a  little,  from  the  room.  Her  departure  went 
unnoticed,  nor  did  Rose  know,  until  more  than  an 
hour  later,  that  the  girl,  without  telling  anyone  of 
her  intention,  had  got  Billy  to  help  her  saddle  one  of  the 
mules  and  ridden  off  through  the  gathering  twilight, 
on  the  twelve  mile  road  to  Fayville.  What  mattered 
the  darkness  to  her  when  the  greatest  light  of  all 
shone,  undimmed,  within  her  breast? 

"But  Virgil  was  found  there,  with  his  own  rifle 

....  the  rifle  that  killed  Malvary,"  persisted 

Philip,  and  he  was  rewarded  by  seeing  John  start 

a  little,  as  though  the  words  touched  the   quick  of 

his  weakening  brain. 


CLEARING  363 


Almost  angrily,  and  in  a  considerably  stronger 
voice  the  other  answered,  "I  shot  him,  I  say  .  .  . 
with  Virgil's  gun.  I  ...  I  ...  took  ..." 
A  violent  spasm  of  coughing  ended  his  sentence, 
and  the  agony  of  it  started  the  sweat  from  his  face. 

Rose  gave  him  more  water.  Then  she  took  his 
fevered  hand,  and  said  in  a  soothing  tone,  "We  under- 
stand, John.  Please  do  not  try  to  talk  any  more." 

He  seemed  willing  to  obey,  and  lay,  gasping  faintly, 
lor  a  while. 

Forgetful  in  her  deep  distress,  that  he  might  be 
able  to  hear  her  words,  Rose  turned  to  her  brother 
and  cried,  "Oh,  but  why,  Philip?  Why  do  you  sup- 
pose he  did  it?" 

"Omie."  The  name  fell  from  the  barely  moving 
lips  of  the  wounded  man  in  a  rasping  whisper. 
"Little  sister." 

"But  what  did  he  know  about  that?  How  did  he 
learn — he  wasn't  here?"  exclaimed  Philip.  "And 
what  does  he  mean  by  'little  sister?'  Poor  fellow, 
the  delirium  is  starting  again.  We've  got  to  keep 
him  quiet,  if  we  can." 

"Yes.  You  mustn't  talk  any  more,  John."  Rose 
lowered  her  voice  and  continued,  softly,  "Omie's 
been  'little  sister'  to  him  almost  from  the  day  he 
came,  poor  fellow.  They  are  as  different  as  light 
and  darkness,  but  her  gaiety  seemed  to  strike  a 
hidden  responsive  cord  in  his  reserved  nature  and 
he  has  been  very  fond  of  her — of  all  the  family,  in- 
deed. Haven't  you  noticed  it?  It  has  made  me  very 


364  SMILING  PASS 

happy,  for  he  is  such  a  lonely  man,  and  I've  loved 
to  see  Omie  with  him  and  hear  her  call  him  'big 
brother/  as  she  almost  always  did.  Yes,  I'm  begin- 
ning to  understand  how  he  must  have  felt  when  he 
learned,  heaven  knows  how,  what  had  happened; 
but  that  he  should  actually  have  done  what  .  .  . 
what  Virgil  threatened  .  .  .  !  Oh,  Phil,  who  can 
understand  the  natures  of  passionate  men?  " 

She  wet  John's  lips  with  the  water  again.  He 
roused  himself  from  his  lethargy,  seeming  almost 
visibly  to  shake  off  the  coma  into  which  his  mind 
had  been  slipping,  and  spoke,  in  a  still  weaker  voice, 
yet  in  a  manner  which  indicated  that  he  had  heard 
part  of  her  whispered  words,  at  least  sub-consciously. 

"Omie.  Virgil  told  Judd  .  .  .  what  had  .  .  . 
happened.  I  ...  I  heard." 

The  two  listeners  started,  and  Rose  bent  down, 
close  above  him,  and,  gently  stroking  his  head,  asked, 
"How  did  you  hear,  John?  Where  were  you?" 

"Below  .  .  .  close  to  ...  porch.  I  had  been 
walking  .  .  .  walking  .  .  .  walking  all  night 
..."  The  man's  voice  sounded  inexpressibly 
weary,  and  the  woman's  heart  cried  out  in  pity  for 
him  as  she  visualized  the  agony  which  must  have 
been  his  as  he  trod  the  path  of  his  spiritual  Golgotha 
through  the  darkness. 

"Daylight."  He  paused  as  though  struggling  with 
an  idea,  perhaps  that  daylight  had  dawned  upon 
his  own  mind,  filled  with  deep  shadows,  when  it  did 
upon  the  world  of  men.  "I  was  coming  .  .  .  home 


CLEARING  365 


...  to  ask  .  .  .  pardon,  to  tell  Donald  .  .  . 
everything.  I  was  .  .  .  afraid  that  he  might  blame 
.  .  .  blame  you  .  .  .  who  were  .  .  .  blame- 
less." 

In  sudden  new  terror,  Rose  laid  her  hand  over  his 
lips  and  cried,  "Oh,  hush." 

But  he  turned  his  head,  and  labored  on.  It  seemed 
as  though  his  will  alone  were  speaking,  fulfilling  a 
mission  with  which  it  had  been  charged  and  which 
must  be  completed  before  the  spirit  could  depart 
— to  rest.  "I  was  .  .  .  going  to  explain  .  .  . 
and  then  ...  go. 

"I  saw  you  .  .  .  and  Virge  .  .  .  Virgil  stand- 
ing ...  on  ...  porch.  I  thought  he  was  look- 
ing .  .  .  straight  into  my  .  .  .  face.  He  said 
...  he  said,  'I  am  going  to  ...  to  kill  him'.  " 

The  words  which  had  burned  themselves  into 
John's  brain  as  Virgil  had  uttered  them,  looking, 
it  seemed,  directly  into  his  eyes,  yet  seeing  him  not, 
were  uttered  with  surprising  force.  Then  the  man's 
voice  dropped  back  to  a  feeble  whisper,  and  he  con- 
tinued, "I  thought  ...  he  meant  me  ...  I 
...  I  was  .  .  .guilty.  I  started  ...  to  come 
...  to  you  ...  to  confess  ...  all.  But 
.  .  . "  He  stopped,  and  again  the  strangling  cough 
overcame  him  for  a  moment,  and  left  him  panting 
and  deathly  white.  But  he  would  go  on,  in  spite 
of  their  pleas  that  he  rest,  and  in  like  pain-filled 
utterances  he  told  them  how  he  had  heard  all  that 
Virgil  had  told  Judd,  and  how  he  had'  fairly  run 


366  SMILING  PASS 

from  the  spot  with  but  one  thought — to  do  what 
Virgil  would  have  done,  and  kill  Malvary.  He  had 
no  rifle,  but  lie  knew  where  tke  other  kept  his,  and 
he  had  taken  it,  intending  to  avenge  the  girl  and  then 
give  himself  up.  But  Malvary  had  seen  him  coming, 
and  fired  first.  The  rest  was  a  blank.  He  could  not 
describe  what  had  happened  except  that  at  last  he 
had  fallen,  down,  down,  from  a  rock  onto  which  he 
had  stumbled,  blindly,  after  he  was  sure  that  the 
work  which  he  had  gone  there  to  perform  was  done. 

Then  exhaustion  overcame  him  again.  He  seemed 
no  longer  to  be  suffering,  but  gently  slipping  away 
from  them,  down  among  the  shadows.  As  Rose 
bathed  his  face  and  moistened  his  parched  and  parted 
lips,  she  said  with  wonderment,  to  Philip,  "How 
awful,  and  yet  how  strange  it  is!  Who  would  have 
dreamed  that  a  man  of  stone,  like  John  Hunter, 
would  have  been  aroused  to  do  a  thing  like  that, 
simply  from  overhearing  Virgil's  outburst — that 
he  would  have  become  obsessed  by  the  insane  idea 
of  killing  another  who  had  injured  a  girl  that  was 
no  more  to  him  than  a  dear  little  friend?  It  isn't 
even  as  though  he  were  a  mountain  man,  with  the 
feud  spirit  and  hill  code  of  honor  inbred  in  him.  I 
can  understand  it  in  Virgil,  but  not  in  him." 

The  sound  of  Virgil's  name  must  have  whipped 
up  John's  flagging  intellect  again,  for  he  started, 
and  gasped,  "I  saved  .  .  .  saved  Virgil  from 
.  .  .  doing  .  .  .  hit.  /  killed  him,  I  say  .  .  . 
Like  I  killed  .  .  .  Judd  Amos  .  .  .  fer.  .  .  the 


CLEARING  367 


same  reason  .  .  .  fer  threatenin'  another  .  .  . 
another  gal.  I  thought  I  ...  loved  her.  But  hit 
warn't  so.  I  haint  never  loved  .  .  .  but  one  woman 
.  .  .  and  she  .  .  .  warn't  .  .  .  fer  me." 

Rose  and  Philip  looked  sharply  at  one  another  in 
bewilderment.  What  did  it  mean,  this  strange  asser- 
tion from  a  delirious  tongue,  and  this  no  less  strange 
mountain  speech  into  which  he  had  fallen?  What 
transformation  or  reversion  was  taking  place  in  his 
weakening  brain? 

He  was  speaking  again,  in  mumbled  words  which 
they  could  catch  only  by  leaning  close  to  his  scarcely 
moving  lips.  "Yes  .  .  .  Rose  said  .  .  .  'Virgil 
mustn't  dew  hit.'  But  hit  hed  to  be  ...  done." 

Suddenly  he  changed  the  tense  of  his  verbs  as 
though  he  were  living  the  moment  of  decision  all 
over  again.  "Ihevgottew  .  .  .  save  Virgie  .  .  . 
and  .  .  .  avenge  .  .  .  .my  .  .  .  little  sister." 

White  as  the  sheet  upon  which  he  lay,  Rose  ab- 
bruptly  seized  the  speaker  by  the  shoulder  in  an  al- 
most frenzied  clutch.  "John,  what  are  you  saying!" 
she  cried  aloud.  "Who  are  you?" 

"I  .  .  .I'm  Joel  .  .  .  Joel  Gayheart  .  .  . 
I've  got  to  .  .  .  kiU  him  .  .  .  like  I  killed  .  .  . 
his  grandpappy.  But  .  .  .  don't  never  tell  them 
....  Rose  .  .  .  mother. 

"Mammy!"  The  final  word  rang  out,  clear  and 
full,  and  charged  with  a  great  love  and  longing. 

There  was  the  sound  of  a  stranger's  voice  speak- 


368  SMILING  PASS 

ing  to  someone  in  the  darkness  of  the  porch  outside 
the  House  of  Happiness,  an  hour  later.  Rose  heard 
it,  and  started  for  the  door. 

"My  name's  Johnson.  I'm  a  United  States  Mar- 
shal up  here  looking  for  moonshiners,"  the  voice 
was  saying.  "I  caught  this  man  up  on  the  mountain, 
there,  bootlegging  away  some  illicit  liquor  from  a 
cache.  He  says  that  his  name  is  Judd  Amos,  and  that 
he  was  getting  it  at  the  request  of  a  doctor  here,  to 
save  the  life  of  a  man  who'd  been  shot.  Is  that  so?" 

She  stepped  out  into  the  night,  answering,  "Yes, 
sir.  That  is  the  truth.  Everyone  will  tell  you  that 
Judd  Amos  is  a  bitter  foe  of  moonshiners  and  I 
sent  him  for  the  whiskey,  for  .  .  .  for  the  reason 
he  gave  .  .  .  .But  it  .  .  .  it  is  too  late." 


CHAPTER  DC 

SUNSHINE 

It  was  May-day  at  Smiling  Pass. 

If  any  of  the  mountain  dwellers  in  what  had  al- 
most ceased  to  be  known  as  "Beaten  Creek"  had 
possessed  such  a  thing  as  a  calendar  they  might  have 
insisted,  with  justification,  that  the  first  of  May 
came  on  Sunday,  and  that  Sunday  would  not  be  until 
the  morrow,  but  Smiles  had  decreed  that  this  was 
May-day,  and  that  was  sufficient. 

A  full  month  had  passed  by  since  the  occurrence 
of  that  crowding  series  of  tragic  events  which  had 
threatened  to  result  in  complete  disaster  for  the 
Community  Center  and  its  work  but  which  had — 
through  the  perversity  of  the  Fates,  who  ever  love 
to  weave  their  animated  patterns  in  strongly  con- 
trasting shadows  and  highlights — ended  by  drawing 
its  friends  closer  to  it,  and  to  those  who  carried  it 
on.  Sympathy  is  one  road  to  understanding. 

The  strain  of  it  all  had  left  Rose  spiritually  shaken, 
for  the  moment,  and  Philip  had  thought  it  wise  to 
extend  his  visit  materially,  in  order  to  stay  during 
the  convalescence  of  both  Donald  and  Omie — each 
of  whom  mended  apace — in  order  to  lend  her  his 
aid  and  encouragement.  He  had  accordingly  ar- 
369 


370  SMILING  PASS 

ranged,  by  wire  and  letter,  with  one  of  his  Boston 
associates  to  continue  in  charge  of  his  practice  for 
the  whole  month;  and  it  was  he  who  fabricated  and 
spread  abroad  the  story  of  how  John  Hunter  and 
Malvary  Amos  came  to  meet  their  violent  deaths, 
weaving  into  it  just  enough  strands  of  truth  to  satisfy 
his  own  conscience,  and  silence  that  of  "his  sorrowing 
sister.  Rose,  however,  had  unburdened  her  soul  by 
full  confession  to  Donald  and  his  love  and  comfort 
made  her  path  easier  to  tread. 

According  to  Philip,  then,  it  had  all  been  a  matter 
of  fatal  accident,  beginning  with  Omie's  fall  from 
the  over-hanging  rock.  Malvary  was  exonerated  of 
any  wrong-doing,  except  of  having  followed  her 
thither  against  the  rules,  and  taking  his  terror- 
stricken  flight.  John — he  was  still  "John  Hunter" 
to  everyone  except  the  two  who  had  listened  to  his 
astounding  confession  and  Donald,  who  had  heard, 
it  from  their  lips — had  merely  gone  hunting  on  the 
mountain,  having  borrowed  Virgil's  rifle  without 
telling  him;  there  was  nothing  strange  in  that  and  all 
knew  that  he  was  a  peculiar  man  of  peculiar  impulses. 
Malvary  had  been  startled  by  his  sudden  appearance, 
armed,  and  shot  first,  in  fear  and  misunderstanding, 
while  John  had  fired  in  self-defense. 

The  story  was  not  unplausible,  and  if  any  who 
heard  it  had  their  doubts  of  its  entire  veracity,  they 
kept  those  doubts  to  themselves,  honoring  Philip 
the  more  for  saving  their  beloved  Smiles  from  further 
pain.  John  had  never  made  any  real  friends  outside 


SUNSHINE  371 


the  family  circle,  but  the  neighbors  honored  him 
for  his  self-sacrificing  labors  on  their  behalf,  performed 
• — Rose,  Donald  and  Philip  now  believed — in  expia- 
tion of  his  youthful  crime. 

With  spring  shadows  and  sunshine  intermingling, 
the  days  had  fled  past,  and  the  two  were  almost  for- 
gotten except  by  those  to  whom  they  had  been  near- 
est, for  they  who  dwell  in  the  high  hills  are  accus- 
tomed to  tragic  death,  and  remembrance  is  fortu- 
nately brief. 

Then,  too,  there  had  been  another  reason  for  for- 
getting the  past  in  anticipation  of  the  future.  Long 
before,  a  great  event — the  one  concerning  which 
Rose  had  hinted  in  her  letter  to  Philip — had  been 
announced  for  May-day,  and  those  who  lived  in 
Smiling  Pass,  or  had  children  at  school  there,  had 
been  eagerly  looking  forward  to  that  anniversary  day. 

Now  it  had  come,  and,  to  the  curious  anticipa- 
tions regarding  what  it  held  in  store  for  their  enter- 
tainment, had  been  added  the  interesting  knowledge 
that  there  was  to  be — a  wedding. 

The  morning  had  dawned  gray  and  chill,  with  low- 
ering skies;  but,  with  the  coming  of  early  afternoon, 
Nature  had  relented — in  direct  answer  to  Billy  Boy's 
earnest  prayer,  he  confided  to  Margaret.  Great 
billowy  banks  of  clouds  carried  up  and  up  the  outline  of 
the  mountains,  like  snowy  caps  set  on  slopes  which  were 
decked  with  carnival  green.  Between  them,  at  brief 
intervals,  shone  the  sun,  blazing  with  glory  and  sharing 
his  wealth  of  gold  with  mankind  in  kingly  prodigality. 


372  SMILING  PASS 

During  the  noon  recess  Billy  and  other  of  the 
younger  children  had  scoured  the  wooded  slopes 
for  nature's  floral  offerings,  and  every  available  glass 
and  pitcher  held  big  sprays  of  dogwood  and  redbud 
blossoms,  bunches  of  tender  white  bloodroot  flowers, 
flaming  orange  bells  of  the  wild  honeysuckle,  purple 
cranesbill,  arbutus,  violets  and  early  sprays  of  the 
delicately  pink  mountain  laurel. 

Never  had  the  neighborhood  known  such  a  festal 
day,  and  the  mountain  people,  outwardly  unemo- 
tional yet  thrilling  at  heart,  early  began  to  arrive 
from  up-creek  and  down-creek  and  over  the  shadowy 
passes  through  the  hills — more  of  them  than  had 
attended  the  Preachin';  yes,  more  than  had  come 
for  the  first  Christmas-tree,  for  no  wintry  snows 
prevented  them,  and  spring  clearing  and  planting 
was  so  nearly  done  that  they  could  leave  it  cheer- 
fully. The  invitation  to  come  to  Smiling  Pass  had 
been  sent  forth  broadcast,  and  purposely  worded 
with  a  vagueness  calculated  to  arose  curiosity,  and 
the  mystery  about  what  was  on  foot  doubled  the 
interest. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  Council — lead  for  the  time 
not  by  Rose,  but  by  the  enthusiastic  Margaret — 
had  planned  the  affair  with  a  deeper  purpose  than 
mere  entertainment.  An  object  lesson  is,  to  the 
childlike  mind,  of  far  greater  value  as  a  teacher  than 
any  verbal  exposition,  and,  although  they  had  no 
intention  of  bringing  their  guests  there  in  expectation 
of  entertainment,  merely  to  disseminate  propaganda 


SUNSHINE  373 


— no  matter  how  subtilely — they  had  high  hopes 
that  at  last  they  might  be  known  by  their  works. 
If  any  should  come  and  see,  and  depart  therefrom 
without  having  caught  at  least  a  feeble  gleam  of  the 
vision  which  they  followed,  they  would  be  blind,  indeed. 

To  that  end,  then,  Margaret  had  laid  her  plans. 
The  visiting  throng  had  been  greeted  at  the  steps  of 
the  House  of  Happiness  and  informed  that  the  pro- 
gram of  festivities  would  not  commence  until  three 
o'clock,  when  the  bell  rang  for  the  cessation  of  labor 
for  the  week;  but  that  they  were  heartily  welcome  to 
make  the  place  their  own,  go  where  they  would,  and 
see  for  themselves  what  manner  of  things  their 
off-spring  were  doing  as  they  traveled  along  the 
road  to  understanding,  whose  three  great  mile- 
stones were  Service,  Self-reliance  and  Leadership. 

With  timid  curiosity  they  first  entered  the  two 
doors  of  the  House  of  Service — a  veritable  beehive 
of  industry,  it  seemed  to  them.  In  one  big,  bright 
room  they  found  their  smiling  daughters,  neatly  clad 
and  happily  engaged,  unsupervised,  in  weaving 
baskets  and  wonderful  "kiwer-lids,"  which  the  toil- 
worn  fingers  of  their  hopeless  mothers  touched  with 
almost  reverent  delight.  In  another  were  the  older 
of  their  smiling  sons,  importantly  busy  at  printing 
press  and  typewriter,  performing  many  a  novel  task, 
almost  beyond  the  comprehension  of  their  listless 
fathers,  with  ease  and  accuracy. 

Then,  while  the  men  were  led  away  by  Virgil  and 
Donald  to  see  the  garden  and  the  road,  the  women 


374 SMILING  PASS 

were  invited  by  Margaret  and  Rose  into  the  sacred 
precincts  of  the  spotless  kitchen,  with  only  one  pro- 
viso; that  they  keep  the  screen  door  shut.  And  there 
they  beheld  other  of  their  girls  with  Mrs.  Gayheart 
and  Omie — now  again  as  sweet  as  a  wild  rose — en- 
gaged in  learning  something  as  old  as  the  ages  under 
the  strange  new  name  of  "domestic  science,"  and 
preparing  with  a  cleanliness  which  was  alike  fasci- 
nating and  almost  appalling,  savory  viands  which 
were  later  simultaneously  to  furnish  the  wedding 
feast  and  satisfy  the  every-day  hunger  of  the  multi- 
tude. 

Their  menfolk  were  meanwhile  leaning  on  the 
paling  fence  and  slowly  grasping  the  significance  of 
the  scene  before  their  eyes. 

Almost  two  years  before,  the  unspeakable  road, 
which  led  from  Fayville  twenty  miles  into  the  heart 
of  the  hills  had  undergone  a  magic  transformation 
at  the  spot  where  it  curved  through  Smiling  Pass. 
The  cloudburst  had  sadly  injured  its  smooth  surface, 
however.  Gullies  and  mudholes  had  again  made  their 
appearance,  and  the  little  boys,  who  had  learned  to 
take  immeasurable  pride  in  it,  had  wondered  and 
become  almost  rebellious  when  their  Margaret  had 
forbidden  them  to  make  the  customary  repairs. 
But  now  they  understood,  and  were  working  with  a 
will,  bringing  big  rocks  and  little  stones,  sawdust 
from  the  sawmill  and  gravel  from  the  edge  of  the 
creek,  so  that  their  fathers  might  learn  through  them 
what  could  be  done,  with  a  minimum  of  labor,  to 


SUNSHINE  375 


provide  a  real  highway  over  which  civilization  might 
enter  unto  them.  And  many  a  mountaineer  who, 
during  his  whole  life,  had  daily  ridden  his  plodding 
mule  through,  or  around,  a  deep  mud  hole  before 
his  very  door,  scratched  his  head  or  rubbed  his  chin 
with  new  thoughtfulness. 

But  work,  even  though  it  be  done  with  a  smile, 
is  but  part  of  the  training  for  a  well-balanced  life, 
and  when  the  three  o'clock  bell  peeled  out  its  mes- 
sage there  was  an  eager  exodus  from  the  House  of 
Service  and  the  finished  road,  and  a  few  moments 
later  the  visitors  were  treated  to  a  new  surprise. 
For  Virgil's  base-ball  nine  appeared  on  the  run  from 
the  Boys'  dormitory,  arrayed  in  complete  uniforms, 
with  SMILING  PASS  lettered  across  their  breasts 
— Philip  had  sent  home  for  them  and  had  them  made 
in  record  time. 

Then  those  who  watched  with  eager  interest, 
though  with  little  real  understanding,  saw  what 
team  play  could  do,  and  heard — with  surprise,  until 
Donald  and  Philip  explained — the  applause  when 
one  of  their  team  was  put  out  after  making  a  sacrifice 
hit.  Their  larger  opponents,  boys  of  the  neighborhood, 
but  not  of  the  school,  fought  hard,  but  vainly,  to 
check  the  victorious  sweep  of  the  well-trained  team  in 
the  five  inning  contest.  They  were  snowed  under  and 
held  scoreless  themselves,  whereupon  the  individual- 
istic men  of  the  mountains  cheered — and  then  once 
more  rubbed  their  chins  or  scratched  their  heads, 
reflectively. 


376 SMILING  PASS 

Again  it  was  the  little  boys'  turn,  and,  although 
none  of  them  were  yet  ready  to  be  received  into  the 
official  fold  of  the  Boy  Scouts,  even  as  tenderfeet, 
they  performed  their  work  with  enthusiasm  and  with 
what  seemed  to  their  observers  an  astonishing  skill. 
And  many  a  silent  mother's  heart  swelled  with  pain- 
ful happiness  as  she  heared  the  voice  of  her  little  son 
ring  out,  true  and  strong,  on  the  last  words  of  the 
pledge — "to  keep  myself  physically  strong,  mentally 
awake  and  morally  straight." 

But  all  this,  and  the  lively  fire-drill  during  which 
a  fierce  imaginary  blaze  on  the  roof  of  the  House  of 
Happiness  was  extinguished  amid  much  laughter 
and  many  cries  of  encouragement — what  mattered 
it  if  the  excited  boys  poured  most  of  the  water  down 
the  chimney,  to  the  woeful  sutty  detriment  of  the 
study  floor? — were  but  preliminaries  to  that  which 
was  in  store! 

For  now  the  girls  came  shyly  forth  from  their 
rooms,  flushing  rosily  with  pride  in  their  new,  dainty 
muslin  dresses  and  silken  sashes,  and  under  Margaret's 
direction,  began  the  ancient  dance  which  never 
grows  old;  the  dance  of  the  May  pole.  There  were 
gasps  of  astonishment  and  now  open  delight  from 
sober  mothers  and  fathers.  Could  these  radiant 
young  creatures,  so  lovely  in  their  becoming  garb, 
which  displayed  their  youthful  necks  and  rounded 
arms,  so  graceful,  so  gay  and  so  dean,  be  the  off- 
spring whom  they  had  always  deeply  loved,  to  be 
sure,  but  regarded  as  like  unto  themselves T— with 


SUNSHINE  377 


all  that  that  implied — then  and  forever?  Eyes,  like 
those  of  Versie  Tittle,  which  had  once  been  so  red 
and  dulled  by  disease,  now  were  sparkling  brightly, 
even  if  through  spectacles  prematurely  worn,  and 
other  eyes  which  watched  the  happy  children,  at 
kst  heirs  to  childhood's  meed  of  happiness,  grew 
suddenly  blurred.  Their  children — not  liken  the  hogs 
but  wwUken  them. 

But  someone  blundered.  It  had  been  forgotten 
that  Carnille  would  at  that  hour  be  arraying  herself 
as  a  bride,  and  one  long  pink  ribbon  hung,  unclaimed 
and  in  seeming  sorrow,  until  Donald  caught  up  his 
baby,  tossed  her  to  his  broad  shoulder  and  bore  her, 
shrieking  with  delight,  to  seize  the  fluttering  end. 
Then  there  was  laughter  indeed,  and  the  spectators 
shouted  their  approval  as  he — a  boy  at  heart  again 
— danced  gaily  around  the  pole,  while  the  sunbeams 
danced  among  the  weaving  hues.  Only  one  .did  not 
join  in  the  laughter,  for  Rose  turned  and  fled  to  her 
room  for  a  moment,  so  that  none  should  see  her 
tears  of  overflowing  happiness. 

When  this,  too,  was  done,  and  the  hand-hewn 
forest  pole  dressed  in  its  garb  of  many  colors,  Camille 
came  forth  to  meet  Virgil  and  Preacher  Paul  under 
the  natural  canopy  formed  by  the  giant  sycamore. 
Then  there  were  more  delighted  gasps  and  whis- 
pered words  of  unfeigned  pleasure,  for  never  had  the 
mountain  folk  seen  so  sweet  a  picture  of  budding 
womanhood  as  was  this  "queer  furrin'  gal,"  whom 
they  all  loved,  dressed  in  simple  white,  with  flowing 


378 SMILING  PASS 

veil  and  orange  blossoms — all  the  gift  of  her  own 
Smiles.  The  simple  ceremony  took  but  a  few  moments, 
and  was  performed  with  a  solemnity  which  all  felt, 
but  few  could  understand.  Absent  was  all  the  cus- 
tomary clamor  and  wild  hilarity  that  made  the 
nuptials  which  they  knew  little  better  than  travesties 
upon  a  sacred  rite. 

Camille's  dark  eyes  shone  with  a  new  and  tender 
radiance  which  made  Margaret  whisper  in  her  ear, 
"I  actually  envy  you,  dear,"  as  she  held  her  close. 

"Wait,"  answered  the  joyful  girl. 

Of  course  some  of  the  younger  men  wanted  to 
follow  the  example  of  Donald  and  Philip,  and  kiss 
the  bride.  But  Virgil  would  have  none  of  it,  and 
laughingly  threatened  to  sound  the  fire  alarm  and 
have  the  claimants  of  that  ancient  privilege  doused 
with  water  from  the  creek,  whereupon  they  thought 
best  to  desist,  but  taunted  him  with  being  parsi- 
monious. 

Now  evening  had  come — the  hour  when  the  world 
mysteriously  changes  from  "dusky  dark  tew  plumb 
dark,"  as  Humpty  Hite  once  put  it.  In  the  big  dining 
hall  the  long  tables  had  been  cleared  away  for.  the 
fourth  and  final  time,  and  the  contented  guests  were 
all  crowded  into  the  House  of  Friendliness,  now 
bright  with  the  dazzling  illumination  shed  by  every 
available  gasoline  lamp. 

The  hubbub  of  their  entry  had  died  away,  and  an 
expectant  hush  settled  over  the  throng,  for  the  one 


SUNSHINE  379 


moment  which  all  knew  to  be  scheduled  had  at  last 
arrived.  A  competition  that  had  inaugurated  a  whole 
year  before  was  ended,  the  rewards  were  to  be  dis- 
tributed, and  many  a  middle-aged  heart  beat  as  fast 
in  fearful  expectation  as  that  of  any  schoolboy  on 
examination  day.  For  not  the  children  of  Smiling 
Pass  alone,  but  many  of  the  older  folk  of  the  neigh- 
borhood had  shared  already  in  the  sweet  waters 
which  flowed  from  the  new  spring  of  knowledge  on 
the  hillside.  It  had  been  carried  straight  into  their 
homes — in  limited  amounts,  to  be  sure — by  Virgil, 
Rose  and  Margaret,  in  accordance  with  the  first 
named's  suggestion,  made  on  the  night  when  he  had 
unfolded  his  vision  in  the  little  cabin  at  Webb's  Gap. 
Truly  the  older  generation  could  not  go  to  school, 
but  to  those  who  had  showed  themselves  eager  to 
open  their  doors  and  their  hearts,  "book  larnin'  " 
had  been  carried  on  at  least  one  evening  in  every 
week.  And  now  those  who  had  also  been  faithful 
over  a  few  things  were  openly  to  receive  their  reward. 

Rose  had  begged  first  Donald  and  then  Virgil  to 
act  as  master  of  ceremonies,  but  each  had  hastened 
to  decline — the  latter  from  embarrassment,  the 
former  lest,  unwittingly,  he  "put  his  foot  in  it"  again. 
So  it  was  Rose  who  now  stood  facing  the  expectant 
crowd,  her  lips  sweetly  serious,  but  the  most  be- 
witching of  smiles  lurking  among  the  purple  shadows 
of  her  wonderful,  deep  blue  eyes. 

"First  of  all,"  she  began,  "I  am  going  to  call  on 
Versie  to  recite  to  us  a  little  verse,  which  she  wrote 


380 SMILING  PASS 

all  herself.  When  she  first  timidly  read  it  to  me,  I 
realized  that  it  told  the  story  which  I  have  to  tell, 
far  better  than  I  could  word  it.  Come,  dear." 

The  child  stepped  forward,  eyes  to  the  floor  and 
flushing  deeply.  She  spoke  hurriedly,  but  clearly, 
reciting: 

"Smile!    For  behold  it  is  the  morn,  and  a  new  day 

for  us  is  being  born; 
Shadows  are  fleeing  from  the  midnight  skies,  the  fair 

dawn  breaks,  so  let  us  quickly  rise 
And  take  each  sunlit  hour  and  make  it  give  to  us  its 

golden  moments,  so  that  we  may  live 
Rich  in  possession  of  the  time  to  do  something  to 

help  ourselves,  and  others,  too; 
Wasting  them  not,  but  spending  them  the  while  in 
learning — and  in  teaching — how  to  smile." 

The  sincere  applause  died  away  and  Rose  con- 
tinued, "That  is  our  message  to  you.  It  is  to  help 
make  Versie's  poem  come  true,  here,  that  we  have 
come  to  Beaten  and  changed  its  name  to  Smiling 
Pass — you  know  that  the  United  States  government 
has  sanctioned  the  change  by  accepting  it  for  our  own 
post  office.  I  wonder  if  you  know  who  made  up  the 
name?  No,  it  was  not  I,  but  our  dear  little  Camille — 
Mrs.  Gayheart,  I  mean.  That  is  why,  too,  we  took  as 
our  motto,  'From  shadow  to  sunshine' — Dr.  Mac- 
Donald  made  that  up.  We  took  it  because  we  hoped 
it  would  come  to  pass,  and  it  is  to  make  it  that  we 
are  all  working,  we  grown-ups  and  your  children  as 


SUNSHINE  381 


well.  For  we  know,  you  and  I,  that  our  mountains 
and  our  mountain  life  are  alike  mostly  in  shadow, 
now.  We  want  to  let  the  sunlight  in — the  kind  that 
shines  within  the  heart,  born  of  happiness.  And  hap- 
piness, I  think,  is  the  child  of  healthy  bodies  and 
souls  filled  with  high  ideals.  We  are  doing  what  we 
can  to  help  all  acquire,  and  keep,  both. 

"If  you  think  that  we  are  beginning  to  succeed, 
and  that  a  new  day  is  really  being  born,  here,  it  is. 
not  for  you  to  thank  the  doctor,  Miss  Treville  and 
me,  but  Virgil  Gayheart,  who  filled  us  with  the  desire 
to  serve,  and  Humpty  Kite,  who  was  the  first  to 
bring  us  here  and  make  our  work  possible. 

"All  that  we,  here,  are  doing,  or  can  do,  is  to  help 
to  train  and  strengthen  the  mountain  youths  so  that 
they  may  lead  others  along  that  road  and  to  that 
goal.  Our  task  must  soon  be  laid  down  for  them  to 
pick  up  and  carry  on.  And  they  can  do  it — will  do 
it.  Oh,  the  happiness  we  have  found  in  the  work,  in 
spite  of  all  the  difficulties!  To  love  and  to  be  loved: 
to  have  the  desire  to  serve  and  the  opportunity  to 
share  in  a  splendid  service,  what  greater  happiness 
can  man  or  woman  have  than  that?  " 

Rose's  eyes  grew  misty  and  her  voice  broke  a  little. 
Then  she  smiled  again  and  continued,  brightly,  "But 
why  am  I  saying  all  this?  You  know  it  already  and 
you  have  seen  for  yourselves  what  your  children  are  ac- 
complishing. And  now  you  are  eager  to  hear  the  names 
of  those  fathers  and  mothers  who  have  also  entered  our 
little  obstacle  race  along  the  Road  to  Understanding. 


382  SMILING  PASS 

"As  we  told  you  racers,  the  certificates  of  merit 
would  not  be  given,  necessarily,  to  those  who  went 
the  furthest,  but  rather  to  those  who  ran  the  best, 
considering  the  obstacles  which  each  had  to  over- 
come. And  all  of  you  realize,  now,  I'm  sure,  that  our 
prizes  are  not  the  real  reward,  but  that  each  has 
already  received  that  in  learning  how  to  read  and 
write." 

"Thet  air  a  fact,"  came  booming  out  in  Bill  Cress' 
deep  voice. 

"That's  right,  Bill.  Well,  we  have  decided  that 
first  place  hi  the  contest  is  shared  by  ...  Humpty 
Kite  and  Mrs.  Zenas  Tittle,  and,  since  ladies  always 
come  first,  I  will  ask  her  to  step  forward  now,  and 
get  her  certificate  and  a  ten  dollar  gold  piece  prize, 
which  Dr.  Bentley  has  given  in  addition." 

Amid  thunderous  applause  and  stamping  of  feet 
in  approval,  the  thin,  weary-looking  woman  walked 
forward  to  receive  the  first  prize  and  reward  of  merit 
which  she  had  ever  known  in  her  shadow-filled  life. 
With  tears  of  gratitude  running  down  her  furrowed 
cheeks,  she  turned  and  stammered,  "I  didn't  aim 
fer  tew  git  no  prize  and  I  haint  deservin'  uv  hit, 
although  I  won't  say  as  haow  I  kaint  use  the  money, 
being  plumb  bare-footed,  whatever.  But  ef  I  could 
choose  a-tween  them,  I'd  sooner  hev  my  eddication, 
fer  naow  I  kin  read  outern  the  Bible  fer  myself. 

"Two  years  ago  I  was  plum  ignerrant,  in  ...  in 
every  way.  And  when  my  least  one  .  .  .  my  baby 
.  .  .  died  I  was  .  .  .  wicked,  too,  But  Smiles, 


SUNSHINE  383 


hyar,  she  cum  and  read  tew  me,  outern  the  SAMS 
in  the  Bible,  and  I  seen  the  light.  And  naow,  ef 
Versie  was  tew  die  tonight  I  could  be  a  heap  more 
comfortable  fer  I  could  read  them  SAMS  fer  myself 
and  I  wouldn't  hev  tew  wait  fer  nobody  with  larnin' 
tew  cum  tew  me  in  my  misery.  But  I  don't  aim  tew 
speak  uv  dyin',  at  this  time  and  place.  Hit's  fer  we- 
uns  tew  live  more  fully  thet  Smilin'  Pass  is  hyar,  I 
reckon.  I  guess  I'm  keepin'  Hite  from  gettin'  his'n." 

Now  it  was  Humpty's  turn  to  speak.  He  came 
forward,  bent  and  pitiable  in  body,  but  with  the 
light  of  conquest  in  his  eyes,  and  said,  "Naow  I 
aims  tew  make  myself  heard.  Smiles,  hyar,  hes  told 
you-all  thet  I  brung  the  furriners  tew  Beaten,  and 
hit's  so.  I  give  them  the  spot  whar  the  House  of 
Happiness  sets,  and  I  deeded  them  the  rest  uv  the 
land  uv  my  fathers — I  writ  my  name  on  the  deed — 
and  I  reckon  I  sold  hit  tew  them  plumb  cheap,  too. 
But  I  haint  regrettin'  hit  one  mite;  I'd  hev  give  hit 
tew  them,  ef  I  could;  I'd  give  them  all  I  hev,  ef  they 
needed  hit.  Two  things  I  take  the  chief  test  pride  in, 
today,  folks.  One  uv  them  is  thet  I've  learned  haow 
tew  read  and  write  a-fore  I  died;  and  the  other  is  thet 
I  hev  helped  tew  start  givin'  Beaten  Creek,  and  all 
the  maountings,  back  tew  the  U-nited  States  of 
Ameriky." 

At  last  all  of  the  other  rewards  had  been  distri- 
buted, the  final  one  going  to  "Bad  Bill"  Cress,  and, 
as  he  awkwardly  advanced  to  receive  it,  Rose  said, 
"Bill,  I  know  that  you  are  rather  a  man  of  action 


384 SMILING  PASS 

than  words.  Instead  of  trying  to  make  us  a  pretty 
speech  won't  you  sing  your  famous  'moonshine' 
song?  We  would  all  love  to  hear  it." 

"I  will  ef  you  likes.  Reckon  most  uv  you-all  know 
haow  I  cum  tew  write  this  hyar  song,  folks,  but  maybe 
some  uv  you  don't.  Wall,  hit  was  this  way.  Me  and 
my  brother  hed  a  little  still  up  thar  on  the  maounting, 
yonder,  and  the  revenooers  cum  fer  tew  bust  hit  up. 
Wall,  one  uv  the  U-nited  States  marshals  happened 
tew  get  killed  and  we  hed  tew  get  aout"  A  sally  of 
laughter  greeted  his  naive  statement.  "We  went 
over  tew  Black  Maounting  where  the  hills  are  harder 
tew  climb,  and,  jest  tew  pass  the  time,  started  up 
another  little  still,  thar.  Wall,  one  night  when  brother 
war  away  I  sot  keepin'  the  kettle  boilin',  so  tew  say,  and 
sorter  whistlin'  and  hummin'  tew  myself  and  the  words 
of  thishyar  song  jestpopped  intew  my  mind,  whatever." 

He  cleared  his  throat  and  began  to  sing  lustily  a 
lilting  simple  melody  the  verses  to  which  ran: 

"Daown    under    the    hill    thar    sat  a    little    still, 

and  its  smoke  curled  up  tew  the  sky. 
You  could  eas'ly  tell  by  the  whiffle  uv  the  smell,  thar 

was  licker  in  the  air  close  by. 
Yes,  licker  in  the  air  close  by,  and  thar  haint  many 

knows  hit  but  a  few, 
So  pull  off  your  coat  and  wet  up  your  throat,  with 

the  good  old  maounting  dew. 

"  Oh,  here's  tew  the  pill  thet  cures  all  ill,  hit  was 
made  from  the  malt  and  the  rye, 


SUNSHINE  385 


You  could  eas'ly  tell  by  the  whiffle  uv  the  smell,  thar 

was  licker  in  the  air  close  by. 
Yes,  licker  in  the  air  close  by,  and  thar  haint  many 

knows  hit,  you  see; 
Ses,  'won't  your  Honor  please  fill  up  these   jugs, 

these  two  little  jugs  fer  me'.  " 

When  the  laughter  and  cheers  had  ended,  he  said, 
seriously,  "I  hev  quit  makin'  moonshine,  fer  good, 
and  intend  tew  try  instead  tew  make  some  uv  thet 
thar  kind  uv  swwshine  thet  Rose  hes  been  tellin'  us 
abaout." 

She  smiled  her  appreciation  as  she  led  the  ap- 
plause. Then  she  said,  "And  now  we're  going  to  end 
a  wonderful  day  by  having  a  real  old-time  mountain 
dance.  Our  dear  old  blind  fiddler — Versie's  grand- 
pappy — has  come  especially  to  help  others  be  happy; 
we  have  a  banjo  and  I  am  sure  that  at  least  half  a 
dozen  of  you  men  can  take  turns  at  'picking'  it. 
Juddy,  you  used  to  be  the  best  'caller  out'  at  Webb's 
Gap.  Do  you  think  that  you  have  forgotten  how 
to  .  .  .?" 

"I  don't  guess  thet  I  have"  interrupted  Judd, 
decisively,  all  at  once  filled  with  the  spirit  of  the 
occasion.  "Push  back,  folks.  Clear  the  floor  and  pick 
your  partners — yes,  sweethearts,  if  you  like.  If  Rose'll 
let  Bill  sing  thet  'Whiffle  uv  the  still'  song  of  his'n, 
reckon  thet  all  rules  are  out  uv  workin'  order  at 
Smiling  Pass,  tonight." 

Amid  great  hilarity  sixteen  couples  were  formed 


386 SMILING  PASS 

and  took  their  places.  The  fiddle  and  the  banjo  were 
put  in  tune,  and  swung  into  the  toe-tapping  rhythm 
of  "Black-eyed  Susie." 

"Thet's  the  ticket,  Joe,"  exclaimed  the  new  master 
of  ceremonies.  "  'Hop  up,  skip  up,  Black-eyed 
Susie.  Mighty  good-lookin'  but  the  boys  won't 
choose  ye.'  Can't  say  as  much  abaout  the  good- 
lookin'  gals  aout  hyar  on  the  floor.  Ready,  all?  Let's 
go!  All  .hands  up  and  circle  tew  the  left.  Swing  your 
partners  and  the  one  you  meet!" 

With  the  stamping  of  many  heavy  feet  upon  the 
bare  boards  and  the  rhythmic  clapping  of  hands  by 
the  on-lookers,  the  dance  was  started. 

Donald  had  become  a  little  tired,  and  departed 
to  the  House  of  Happiness  to  relieve  Veda  Thorns- 
berry,  who  had  sacrificially  volunteered  to  stay 
with  the  baby,  and  now  Rose  stole  away  from  the 
merry  crowd  to  join  him  for  a  moment.  As  she  slipped 
outside  into  the  cool  light  of  the  newly  risen  moon, 
she  almost  bumped  into  Virgil  and  Camille,  close 
in  each  other's  arms.  They  hastily  separated,  and 
she  laughed,  "Shame,  shame!  Well,  I'll  have  to 
forgive  you.  Judd  has  decreed  that  the  rule  against 
sweethearting  is  in  abeyance  tonight,  and  married 
sweethearts  are  exempt,  anyway,  I  suppose."  She 
kissed  the  happy,  blushing  girl,  pressed  Virgil's  hand 
and  ran  on. 

"Don't  forget  your  honey''  came  through  the  still 
air  in  Judd's  voice. 

In  the  deep  shadow,  thrown  by  the  steps  up  to 


SUNSHINE  ^  387 

the  high  porch,  stood  two  more  figures,  close  together, 
and  she  was  upon  them  before  she  had  become  aware 
of  their  presence. 

"Philip!  Margaret!  What  has  got  into  everybody, 
tonight?  Is  it  the  moon?"  Something  in  the  ex- 
pression on  the  girl's  face  as  she  stepped  out  into 
the  clear,  white  radiance  caused  Rose  to  stop,  with 
her  own  heartbeat  quickening.  "Oh.  ,  .  .  Oh,  have 
I  interrupted  .  .  .  something  important?"  she 
cried. 

"Well,  rather,"  answered  Philip.  "You've  butted 
into  the  most  important  moment  of  my  life,  and  if, 
as  a  result,  Margaret  says  'No,'  I  shall  lay  the  blame 
on  you  for  the  rest  of  your  days." 

"First  couple  lead  out  on  a  -wild  goose  chase" 
Margaret  laughed,  a  little  unsteadily.      "Juddy 
is  wrong.    It  isn't  'a  wild  goose  chase.'    Oh,  Smiles, 
I  love  you  too  much  to  bring  such  a  life-sentence 
upon  you,"  she  whispered. 
"Margafetl  Then  it  is  'yes'?" 
"Of  course  it;  is,  you  dear,  tame  goose.    You  have 
said  that  these  dear  mountains  have  made  a  new 
woman  out  of  me,  and  if  you  had  not  asked  me,  to- 
night, I  had  fully  made  up  my  mind  to  be  a  'new 
woman'  in  la  different  sense,  and  propose  to  yott 
The  idea  of  your  going  home,  day  after  tomorrow 
.   .   .    ."     She  sobbed,  suddenly,  and,  despite  the 
presence  of  his  sister,  Philip  caught  her  in  Jiis  dose 
embrace. 

"lady  'round  the  lady  and  the  gent  go  slow.    Lady 


388 SMILING  PASS 

'round  the  gent,  and  the  gent  don't  go  I"  came  up  through 
the  darkness. 

"You  two  darlings!"  cried  Rose,  throwing  her 
arms  about  both  of  them. 

For  a  moment  the  three  mutual  lovers  chatted 
happily.  Then  Smiles  said,  "I  suppose  that  you  will 
be  taking  Margaret  back  home  soon,  Philip." 

"  'Home'?  You  bet  I  will,  if  I  can  tear  her  away 
from  my  rival,  Virgil's  Cause,"  he  answered. 

"It  isn't  ...  it  has  never  been  your  rival,  Phil. 
It  is  just  as  much  a  part  of  your  heart  as  it  is  mine, 
and  Smiles',  and  we'll  come  back  to  take  our  share 
in  it  just  as  often  as  we  can.  Won't  we,  dear? " 

"We  certainly  shall.  And  you,  Rose!  What  are 
you  planning  to  do,  now  that  Donald  is  well  again?" 

"Do,  I  think,  just  as  you  are  planning  to.  We 
have  talked  it  all  over,  seriously,  already.  Virgil, 
Camille  and  the  older  mountain  boys  must  learn  to 
walk  alone,  4g>on,  if  our  real  purpose  is  to  be  carried 
out.  Of  course  we  mean  to  continue  to  handle  the 
financial  end  for  a  long  time,  yet,  give  them  our  moral 
support  during  the  winter  and  spend  most  of  our 
summers  here,  as  well.  But  first — this  is  a  great 
secret — Donald  and  I  are  planning  to  run  away 
from  everyone  and  have  a  second  honeymoon  in  my 
dear  old  cabin  at  Webb's  Gap.  Oh,  how  happy  we 
are  going  to  be  there  'alone  together'.  " 

"Fine.  And  that  means,  I  suppose,  that  at  last 
you  are  ready  to  take  up  my  offer  of  two  years  ago, 
and  let  me  have  Smiles,  Junior?" 


s 

SUNSHINE 


"Indeed  we  are  not!  She  is  part  of  us — the  most 
precious  part  of  our  bodies  and  souls.  Hark!" 

From  within  the  House  of  Happiness  came  the 
sound  of  a  sleepy  little  voice,  followed  by  a  tender 
deep  one,  saying,  "Muwer,  I  want  a  drink,"  and 
"Daddy  will  get  it  for  you,  sweetheart." 

"Promenade  all  the  way  home"  chanted  Judd, 
below. 

THE  END 


•••••I 

A     000036681     5 


